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^CONFESSION'S 


OF  A 


]^EURASTHE]^IC 


WILLIAM  TAYLOR  MARKS,  M.D. 


mitb  ©rioinal  Ullustratious 


PHILADELPHIA 

F.  A.   DAVIS  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


■y\\ 


COPYRIGHT  1908, 

BT 

F.  A.  DAVIS  COMPANY. 


[Registered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London,  Eng.] 


Philadelphia,  Pa.,  U.  S.  A.  : 

Press  of  F.  A.  Davis  Company, 

1916  Cherry  Street. 


AUTHOR'S  APOLOGY. 


'T'HE  author's  life-work  having  been  such  as 
to  enable  him  to  be  especially  observant, 
he  can  vouch  for  nearly  every  incident  and 
statement  recorded  in  this  monograph  as 
being  based  upon  an  actual  experience,  and 
therefore  not  merely  the  creation  of  some- 
thing out  of  the  whole  cloth.  In  this  instance, 
the  neurasthenic  is  made  to  carry  quite  a 
heavy  burden;  thus,  in  a  measure,  suffering 
vicariously  for  the  whole  class  to  which  he 
belongs. 

The  author  has  used  his  best  efforts  to  tell 
his  story  in  a  happy  vein,  without  padding 
and  a  multiplicity  of  words.  The  writing  of 
it  has  been  a  task  well  mixed  with  pleasure, 
the  latter  of  which  it  is  hoped  the  reader 
may,  in  some  small  measure,  share.  The 
suggestions  that  are  intended  to  be  conveyed 

iii 


Author's  Apology. 


project  between  the  lines,  and  therefore  need 
no  pointing  out. 

The  one  apology  which  the  author  desires 
to  offer  is  for  the  constant  repetition  of  the 
personal  pronoun.  This  has  been  all  along 
a  matter  of  sincere  regret  to  the  author,  but 
he  saw  no  way  of  obviating  it.  It  is  a  diffi- 
cult matter  to  tell  a  story,  when  you  are  your 
own  hero  and  villain,  and  keep  down  to  a 
modest  limit  the  ever-recurrine  /. 


'fe 


William  Taylor  Marks. 

Peoria,  Illinois. 


IV 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter  Page 

I.     The  Neurasthenic  during  his  Infancy 1 

II.     The  Perversity  of  his  Childhood 7 

III.  As  a  Shiftless  and  Purposeless  Youth 16 

IV.  His  Pursuit  of  an  Education 20 

V.     Tries  to  Find  an  Occupation  Conducive  to 

Health 27 

VI.     New  Symptoms  and  the  Pursuit  of  Health.  .  35 

VII.     The  Neurasthenic  Falls  in  Love 42 

VIII.      Morbid  Fears  and  Fancies 50 

IX.     Germs  and  How^  he  Avoided  Them.    Appen- 
dicitis    55 

X.     Dieting  for  Health's  Sake 63 

XI.     Tells    of    a    Few    New    Occupations    and 

Ventures ....  71 

v 


Contents. 

Chapter  P^qe 

XII.     Tries  a  New  Business;  also  Travels  some 

for  his  Health 77 

XIII.  Tries  a  Retired  Life;    is  also  an  Investi- 

gator   of    New    Thought,    Christian 
Science,  Hypnotic  Suggestion 84 

XIV.  The  Cultivation  of  a  Few  Vices  and  the 

Consequences 90 

XV.  Considers  Politics  and  Religion.  Con- 
sults Osteopathic  and  Homeopathic 
Doctors 94 

XVI.     Takes  a  Course  in  a  Medical  College.  . .      101 

XVII.     Turns  Cow-boy.      Has  Run  the  Gamut 

of  Fads 108 

XVIII.     Gives  up  the  Task  of  Writing  Confessions     113 


VI 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Page 

Nursing  the  baby 9 

I  was  weaker  than  I  really  looked  to  be  11 

My    bump    of    continuity    was    poorly 

developed 21 

I  read  up  in  the  almanacs 29 

Looking  for  new  symptoms 33 

Informed      me     I     had     psychasthenia 

anorexia    39 

The    wind    was    blowing    a    hurricane 

through  my  room 57 

Good-night  and  good-bye 115 

vii 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  NEURASTHENIC  DURING  HIS  INFANCY. 

T^HE  neurasthenic  is  born  and  not  made 
^  to  order,  but  it  is  only  by  assiduous 
cultivation  that  he  can  hope  to  become  a 
finished  product.  To  elucidate  the  fact  pre- 
sented by  the  latter  half  of  the  preceding 
sentence  is  the  purpose  of  this  little  book. 

In  telling  a  story  it  is  always  best  to  begin 
at  the  beginning.  I  shall  start  by  saying 
that  I  was  born  poor  and  without  any  oppor- 
tunities, therefore  I  ought  to  have  been  able 
to  accomplish  almost  anything.  The  reader 
will  readily  agree  that  the  best  inheritance 
that  the  average  American  boy  can  have  is 
indigence  and  lack  of  opportunity.  For  get- 
ting on  in  the  world  and  for  carving  out 
one's  own  little  niche,  nothing  beats  having 
poverty-stricken,  but  sensible  and  respectable 
parents.  Many  a  fellow  has  been  heard  to 
deplore  the  lack  of  opportunities  in  his  early 
youth  when,  in  reality,  nothing  stood  in  his 
way,  unless  it  may  have  been  the  rather  un- 
handy handicap  of  being  poor.     Money  may 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


sometimes  enable  one  to  get  recognition  in 
the  hall  of  fame,  and  sometimes  it  is  instru- 
mental in  getting  one's  picture  in  the  rogues' 
gallery. 

So  I  consider  myself  fortunate  in  having 
been  born  well,  except  that  I  inherited  a 
neurosis  instead  of  an  estate.  "Neurosis" 
and  "neurotic"  are  docile  terms  after  you 
once  form  their  acquaintance.  They  broke 
into  my  vocabulary  while  I  was  yet  at  a  ten- 
der age,  and  during  all  the  intervening  years 
I  have  learned  more  and  more  about  them, 
both  from  literary  and  experimental  stand- 
points. 

A  neurosis  is  a  nervous  symptom  of  some 
sort,  and  if  you  have  a  sufficient  number  and 
variety  of  them  you  are  a  neurasthenic.  If 
you  ever  get  so  that  you  can  move  in  neu- 
rasthenic circles,  you  will  always  be  foolish 
about  your  health  and  your  physical  and 
mental  well-being.  It  is  quite  common  for 
us  to  ascribe  all  our  defects  to  heredity. 
Poor  old,  overworked  heredity  is  the  dump- 
ing-ground for  the  most  of  our  laziness,  per- 
versity and  shortcomings!  If  we  have  a  bad 
temper,   a  penchant   for  whiskey,  or  a  wry- 


N  cur  asthenic  During  Infancy. 


neck,  heredity  has  the  brunt  to  bear.  We 
can  always  give  our  imperfections  a  Httle 
veneering  by  saying  that  they  were  an  in- 
heritance. 

Granting  the  significance  of  heredity  as  a 
factor  in  causing  suffering,  I  wish  to  em- 
phasize the  fact  that  we  can  inherit  only 
tendencies,  or  the  raw  material,  as  it  were. 
We  do  the  rest  ourselves,  and  work  out  our 
respective  salvations  either  with  or  without 
fear  and  trembling.  Quite  often  improper 
training  and  adverse  environment  at  an  im- 
pressionable age  start  us  on  the  wrong  track. 
And  that  brings  me  to  the  point. 

With  this  seeming  digression  in  order  to 
prepare  the  reader's  mind  for  what  is  to  fol- 
low, I  return  to  my  infancy — in  fancy.  At- 
the  age  of  twenty-four  hours,  so  I  am  told, 
I  considered  it  necessary  to  have  a  lighted 
lamp  in  my  room  at  night.  Other  habits 
affecting  my  special  senses  followed  in  rapid 
succession.  The  visitors  began  pouring  in  to 
see  me  on  the  second  day,  and  I  think  it  was 
a  morbid  interest  that  any  one  could  work  up 
over  such  a  red,  speckled  mite  of  humanity 
as  I  must  have  been.     They  all  insisted  on 

3 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


digging  me  out  of  my  nest,  taking  me  up  and 
rolling  me  about,  when  it  was  my  natural  in- 
clination to  want  to  sleep  nearly  all  the  time. 
From  this  procedure  I  soon  grew  restless  and 
disturbed  sleep  followed. 

For  the  first  two  or  three  days  I  had  no 
desire  for  nourishment,  so  far  as  I  can  re- 
member now,  but  a  number  of  concoctions 
were  put  down  my  unwilling  little  throat.  As 
I  have  since  learned,  a  babe,  like  a  chick,  is 
born  with  sufficient  nourishment  in  its  stom- 
ach to  tide  it  along  a  few  days  without  pa- 
rental intervention.  You  might  be  able  to 
convince  a  hen  mother  of  this  fact,  but  a 
human  mother — never!  So  when  I  cried, 
it  was  for  two  or  three  reasons:  My  feel- 
ings were  outraged,  or  the  variety  of  teas 
had  created  a  gas  on  my  stomach  which  made 
me  feel  very  uncomfortable  (the  old  ladies 
called  it  ''misery").  Then  I  cried  because  I 
thought,  or  rather  felt,  that  the  air-cells  of 
my  lungs  needed  expansion,  and  the  crying 
act  assisted  materially  in  doing  this.  If  I 
could  have  talked  or  sung,  I  should  not  have 
cried.  Crying  was  the  easiest  and  most  nat- 
ural thing  for  me  to  do.     It  was  then  that 

4 


Neurasthenic  During  Infancy. 


I  was  introduced  to  the  paregoric  bottle,  and 
I  very  soon  began  to  form  the  habit.  My 
dear,  good  mother  would  have  been  terribly 
incensed  had  any  one  suggested  that  her 
darling  was  becoming  a  little  dope  fiend. 

Remedies  soon  lost  their  soporific  effect 
on  me,  or  I  acquired  tolerance  to  the  usual 
dosage,  and  the  folks  had  to  hunt  up  new 
things  to  give.  I  took  soothing  syrups  and 
"baby's  friends"  galore.  The  night  and  the 
day  were  not  rightly  divided  for  me;  when 
I  slept,  it  was  during  the  day  when  others 
were  awake,  and  vice  versa.  I  became  a 
spoiled,  pampered  child,  and  gained  a  great 
deal  of  attention  and  sympathy,  in  conse- 
quence of  which  I  became  a  veritable  little 
bundle  of  nerves.  While  yet  in  my  mother's 
arms,  I  manifested  man}^  of  the  whims  and 
vagaries  which  were  destined  to  crop  out 
more  strenuously  as  I  grew  older. 

Ah,  mothers,  why  does  that  big,  loving 
heart  of  yours  never  falter  or  grow  weary 
in  the  performance  of  what  you  think  is  your 
bounden  duty  toward  your  attention-loving 
little  one?  If  Willie  is  not  sick — and  per- 
haps even  if  he   is — he  needs   a  great  deal 

5 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


of  letting  alone.  Why  jeopardize  your  own 
health  in  perpetuating  these  midnight  seances 
with  him,  thus  engendering  in  him  a  habit 
that  will  grow  into  "nerves,"  and  perhaps 
later  into  shattered  health  or  a  weakened 
character?  Better  let  him  cry  it  out  once  and 
for  all!  But  you  are  mothers,  and  mother- 
hood being  a  heaven-born  institution,  there  is 
supposed  to  be  a  maternal  instinct  that  ever 
guides  you  aright.  This  I  have  the  hardihood 
to  seriously  question. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    PERVERSITY    OF    HIS    CHILDHOOD. 

WHEN  I  became  old  enough  to  "take 
notice"  of  things,  I  was  fairly  deluged 
with  toys:  Fuzzy  dogs  and  cats;  big,  red, 
yellow  and  green  balls;  fancy  rattle-boxes, 
and  various  other  things  were  used  to  stim- 
ulate my  perceptive  faculties.  All  of  which 
should  be  left  to  Mother  Nature,  who  ever 
does  these  things  well  in  her  own  good 
time  and  way.  I  became  so  accustomed  to 
toys,  having  such  an  innumerable  variety  of 
them,  that  it  required  something  out  of  the 
ordinary  to  arouse  my  interest.  The  poetic 
thought 

"Pleased  with  a  rattle,  tickled  with  a  toy," 

had  little  significance  to  me.  I  outgrew  toys 
very  early  and  became  precocious.  Elderly 
ladies  said  I  was  "old  for  my  age,"  whatever 
that  may  mean,  and  that  I  was  too  smart  to 
live.  But  I  have  always  had  a  stubborn 
way  of  disappointing  those  who  love  me  best. 
This    precocity   was    taken   advantage   of   by 

7 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


relatives  and  visitors  to  furnish  them  with 
amusement.  Many  a  time  when  some  one 
dropped  in  I  was  called  upon  to  be  the  star- 
performer  of  the  evening.  I  was  compelled 
to  appear  whether  I  felt  like  it  or  not.  I  was 
tickled  in  the  ribs,  because  the  folks  liked  to 
hear  my  hearty  laugh;  and  I  vv^as  tossed  in 
the  air  and  stood  on  my  head,  because  it  was 
thought  that  these  things  were  as  amusing 
to  me  as  to  my  audience.  Whenever  conver- 
sation lagged  I  was  made  the  center  of  at- 
traction and  compelled  to  assist  in  some  new 
stunt.  As  I  now  look  back  on  my  infantile 
career,  I  have  little  reason  to  question  why  I 
was  nervous  and  spoiled  as  I  merged  from 
infancy  into  childhood.  I  ought  to  be  thank- 
ful that  I  survived  it  all! 

As  I  grew  older  I  became  peevish  and 
morose,  I  was  full  of  conceits,  moods  and 
whims.  This  was  not  due  to  actual  sickness, 
for  all  my  functions  were  normal  and  I  was 
reasonably  well  nourished.  One  sort  of  play 
or  pastime  soon  palled  on  me.  I  think  this 
was  mainly  due  to  the  fact  that  I  had  been 
humored  to  death  and  had  enjoyed  every  sen- 
sation and  surprise  that  it  was  possible  for 

8 


Perversity  of  his  Childhood. 


Nursing  the  baby. 


Confessions  of  a  NctirastJicnic. 


nie  to  experience.  When  I  played  with  other 
children,  things  had  to  go  my  way  or  there 
was  a  scene.  I  did  not  fight,  my  bump  of 
combativeness  being  evidently  small.  It  was 
not  from  my  inherent  goodness  that  I  re- 
frained from  pugilistic  encounters  so  much 
as  from  the  fact  that  I  did  not  want  to  dis- 
turb my  mental  equanimity.  Then  I  was  lazy 
and  liked  a  state  of  physical  ease — a  condi- 
tion from  which  I  have  not  yet  recovered. 
I  never  wasted  any  physical  energy.  In  fine, 
I  was  steeped  in  irredeemable  laziness  to  such 
a  degree  that  it  exceeded  that  of  the  Indian 
who  said:  "What's  the  use  to  run  when  you 
can  walk;  or  walk  when  you  can  sit;  or  sit 
when  you  can  lie?"  On  one  occasion,  while 
yet  quite  young,  I  was  found  trying  to  limit 
the  number  of  my  respirations,  stating  that 
it  "tired  me  to  breathe  so  often."  I  often  ate 
and  drank  more  than  I  really  wanted,  hoping 
thereby  not  to  be  troubled  with  eating  and 
drinking  for  some  little  time. 

My  muscles  became  so  soft  and  flabby  from 
disuse  that  it  was  almost  physically  impossi- 
ble for  me  to  run  and  exercise  as  other  chil- 
dren do.     I  was  weaker  than  I  really  looked 

lO 


Perversity  of  his  Childhood. 


to  be.  I  gained  the  reputation  of  being  a 
good  hoy,  but  the  truth  was  I  was  too  lazy 
to  do  anything  mean  as  well  as  anything  good. 
I  lacked  the  spirit  and  vim  that  the  average 
boy  possesses.  While  I  passed  in  the  ''good 
boy"  category,  no  one  stopped  to  question 
the  why  or  the  wherefore  of  my  being  good. 


I  was  weaker  than  I  really  looked  to  be. 

People  often  speak  of  good  boys  and  good 
babies  in  a  sense  of  negation.  If  children  do 
not  indulge  in  the  celestial  feat  of  producing 
a  little  thunder  occasionally,  they  will  never 
attract  any  more  attention  than  that  of  being 
good,  which  is  sometimes  synonymous  with 
being  nobody  and  doing  nothing.     It  is  much 

II 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


easier  for  the  devilish  boy  to  accompHsh  some- 
thing if  his  energy  can  only  be  harnessed  along 
the  line  of  utility. 

When  I  arrived  at  school  age  I  learned 
pretty  well  and  was  still  regarded  by  many 
as  being  precocious  in  this  respect;  but  I  ac- 
quired knowledge  rather  by  absorption  than 
by  hard  study.  A  soft  brick  placed  in  water 
will  soak  up  a  quart  in  a  few  days.  A  hu- 
man brick  will  likewise  absorb  a  bit  of  knowl- 
edge if  he  only  remains  where  there  is  some- 
thing to  be  absorbed.  As  I  did  not  engage 
in  the  usual  sports  and  rampages  of  boys  I 
took  to  learning  rather  readily.  At  the  same 
time  I  became  introspective  and  self-centered. 
The  brain  cells  of  the  most  stupid  person 
are  constantly  in  action.  Cerebration  goes  on 
whether  we  will  it  or  not.  If  we  do  not  di- 
rect our  brain  it  will  run  riot  and  lead  us 
into  devious  and  dangerous  paths. 

The  more  I  thought  of  myself,  the  more 
important  I  became;  not  proud  and  super- 
cilious, but  simply  important  to  my  own  little 
ego.  I  speculated  in  my  childish  way,  on  the 
function  of  each  organ  of  my  body  and  the 
relation   it  bore  to   the   great   scheme   which 

12 


Pcrz'crsity  of  his  Childhood. 


we  call  existence.  One  day  I  got  to  wonder- 
ing" what  would  happen  if  my  heart  should 
take  a  notion  to  stop  and  rest  for  a  few  sec- 
onds. The  thought  of  such  a  catastrophe 
made  me  so  nervous  that  all  my  organs  ap- 
parently got  out  of  gear  and  I  had  a  diminu- 
tive fit.  From  that  day  I  began  to  have  all 
sorts  of  nervous  symptoms,  most  of  which 
were,  to  say  the  least,  vague  and  indefinite. 
Frequently  I  complained  that  I  was  afraid 
''something  was  going  to  happen."  Since 
then,  whenever  I  hear  that  phrase  I  invari- 
ably associate  it  with  a  person  who  has  noth- 
ing to  do  and  who  is  too  lazy  to  do  anything 
even  if  he  had  ever  so  many  duties.  At  that 
time  I  did  not  know  enough  about  disease 
symptoms  to  enable  me  to  acquire  a  perfect 
ailment  of  any  sort,  but  later,  when  I  had 
formed  a  speaking  acquaintance  with  diseases, 
I  began  to  get  them  rapidly  and  in  the  most 
typical  form.  For  the  present  I  took  life  as 
easy  as  I  could  and  had  no  boyish  ambition 
to  be  a  cowboy  or  a  desperado.  Such  ambi- 
tions as  I  did  foster  were  of  the  free-and-easy 
sort. 

13 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


My  first  inspiration  worth  speaking  of  was 
after  my  visit  to  the  circus.  Every  male 
reader  has  been  struck  by  it  some  time  dur- 
ing his  boyhood,  and  it  is  a  healthy  ambition 
of  which  we  need  not  be  ashamed.  Yes,  I 
was  going  to  be  an  acrobat  and  wear  pretty 
red  tights  with  glittering  spangles!  It  would 
be  nice,  too,  I  thought  incidentally,  to  be  near 
the  little  lady  who  wore  the  pink  tights  and 
did  such  awe-inspiring  stunts  on  the  flying- 
trapeze.  The  circus  sawdust  ring  and  the 
flapping  folds  of  canvas  may  lure  boys  from 
books  and  study,  but  they  give  us  our  first 
ambition  to  be  and  to  do  something.  Mine 
was  of  short  duration,  however.  It  came  and 
went  like  the  circus  itself. 

Soon  after  this  I  went  on  an  errand  to  a 
shoemaker's  repair  shop,  and  the  life  of  a 
cobbler  impressed  me  favorably.  He  had 
such  a  comfortable  seat,  made  by  nailing  some 
leather  straps  over  a  circular  hole  in  a  bench. 
The  man  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  occupy 
this  seat  and  pound  pegs.  But  the  very  next 
week  I  heard  a  fine  preacher  whose  roaring 
eloquence,  together  with  his  easy,  dignified 
life,  caused  me  to  think  that  the  pulpit  was 

14 


Perversity  of  his  Childhood. 


the  place  for  me.  A  few  weeks  later  I  chanced 
to  see  a  sleight-of-hand  performance  and  I 
at  once  decided  that  the  art  of  legerdemain 
would  be  more  easily  learned  than  the  Gospel 
work;  so  I  began  to  practice  along  this  line 
by  extracting  potatoes  and  other  sundries  from 
the  nasal  appendages  of  members  of  the  house- 
hold. I  was  succeeding  admirably,  I  thought, 
until  one  day  in  attempting  to  eat  cotton  and 
blow  fire  out  of  my  mouth  I  burnt  my  tongue 
painfully  and  became  so  disgusted  that  I  aban- 
doned the  idea  of  becoming  a  showman. 

In  turn  I  had  fully  made  up  my  mind  to 
become  a  huckster,  an  auctioneer,  a  scissors- 
grinder,  a  peanut-vender,  an  editor,  an  artist, 
a  book-keeper,  etc.  My  natural  selection  be- 
ing always  something  that  I  thought  would 
not  require  great  energy. 

As  I  became  a  little  older,  my  mental  hori- 
zon widened  somewhat,  but  my  erratic  notions 
became  accordingly  more  expansive.  I  was 
simply  a  little  dreamer  and  my  thoughts  were 
all  visionary.  It  is  true  that  I  was  quite 
young,  but  the  proverbial  straws  pointing  the 
direction  of  the  wind  had  an  application  in 
my  case. 

IS 


CHAPTER  III. 

AS   A   SHIFTLESS   AND    PURPOSELESS    YOUTH. 

T^IME  passed  on — that's  about  all  time  does 
-■'  does  anyway — and  my  idle  habits  still 
clung  to  me.  In  fact  they  grew  stronger  and 
faster  than  I  did.  My  moods  and  whims  were 
subject  to  many  changes,  however.  Some- 
thing new  and  absurd  entered  my  mind  every 
day.  It  was  usually  concerning  the  reckless 
waste  of  energy.  I  never  indulged  in  exple- 
tives or  useless  words;  never  said  "golly," 
"hully  gee,"  or  anything  that  consumed  time 
and  strength  without  giving  adequate  return. 
Unconsciously  I  believed  in  the  conservation 
of  energy.  "What's  the  use?"  seemed  to  be 
with  me  a  deep-rooted  principle. 

Being  now  at  an  age  when  I  could  be  of 
some  service  in  doing  odd  chores  and  errands, 
it  was  a  heavy  tax  upon  my  ingenuity  always 
to  have  a  plausible  excuse  for  getting  out  of 
work.  When  there  was  a  little  labor  sched- 
uled for  me,  I  began  to  work  my  wits  over- 
time trying  to  see  a  way  out  of  it.  Some- 
times I  became  very  studious,  hoping  thus  to 

i6 


Shiftless  and  Purposeless  Youth. 


escape  observation,  or  I  put  up  the  plea  that 
I  was  sick,  tired  or  worn-out.  I  had  practiced 
woe-begone  facial  expressions  until  they  came 
to  my  relief  quite  naturally.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  on  these  occasions  I  was  able  to  make  my 
face  assume  an  actual  pallor.  I  put  off  begin- 
ning any  task  until  the  very  last  moment.  If, 
however,  all  excuses  failed  and  I  was  com- 
pelled to  do  some  work,  I  hurried  with  all 
my  might  to  get  through  with  it  and  thus  get 
the  matter  off  my  mind.  I  have  since  been 
told  that  this  hurrying  through  a  piece  of 
work  is  characteristic  of  many  lazy  people; 
or  they  go  to  the  other  extreme  and  dally 
along,  killing  all  the  time  they  can. 

Between  the  ages  of  ten  and  twelve  I  was 
an  omnivorous  reader.  My  literary  bill-of- 
fare  was  far-reaching;  I  read  everything. 
The  family  almanacs  came  in  for  a  careful 
review.  After  reading  the  harrowing  details 
of  diseases,  which  could  only  be  removed  by 
the  timely  use  of  somebody's  dope,  I  always 
thought:  "That's  just  the  way  I  feel."  But 
when  I  turned  over  a  few  pages  and  read  some 
lady  sufferer's  testimonial,  I  was  sure  that  I 

felt  very  much  the  same  myself„     All  these 
2  17 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


symptoms,  however,  assumed  a  more  tangible 
form  as  I  advanced  in  years. 

I  liked  fairy  tales  and  kindred  reading;  the 
more  audacious  and  unreal  it  was,  the  better 
satisfaction  it  gave  me.  With  me  everything 
was  a  sham;  I  manifested  no  interest  in  real 
and  live  things.  Nothing  but  the  namby- 
pamby  appealed  to  me.  I  now  think  that  if 
at  that  time  I  could  have  been  induced  to  ex- 
ercise vigorously  so  as  to  get  some  good,  red 
blood  coursing  through  my  veins  I  might  have 
been  different. 

In  my  case  my  literary  taste  was  decidedly 
detrimental  to  me.  Before  one  has  arrived  at 
a  discriminating  age,  he  cannot  sit  down  to 
every  sort  of  literary  pabulum  regardless  of 
consequences.  Many  parents  seem  to  think 
the  "Crack- went-the-ranger's-rifle-and-down- 
came-another-Redskin"  literature  the  only 
kind  to  be  placed  on  the  forbidden  shelf.  The 
inspiration  to  go  out  and  shoot  pesky  Indians 
is  healthy  and  commendable  as  compared  with 
much  other  reading  matter  extant.  Any  lit- 
erature that  warps  the  imagination  and  weak- 
ens the  will  should  be  placed  on  the  tabooed 
list.     In  my  case,  however,  the  best  literature 

i8 


Shiftless  and  Purposeless  Youth. 

failed  to  meet  with  any  responses.  Nothing 
was  inclined  to  spur  me  into  action.  I  did  not 
care  to  read  of  great  exploits;  they  gave  me 
mental  unrest.  Once  I  read  that  a  person  by 
walking  three  hours  a  day  would  in  seven 
years  pass  a  space  equivalent  to  the  circum- 
ference of  the  globe.  This  thought  staggered 
me  and  I  believed  there  must  be  something 
wrong  with  a  fellow  who  could  conceive  such 
a  stupendous  undertaking.  Surely  no  one 
would  think  for  a  moment  of  putting  it  into 
execution !  I  also  read  with  stolid  indifference 
of  the  Herculean  feats  of  labor  performed  by 
men  known  to  history.  For  example,  Demos- 
thenes copied  in  his  own  handwriting  Thu- 
cydides'  History  eight  times,  merely  to  make 
himself  familiar  with  the  style  of  that  great 
man.  An  incident  that  appealed  to  me  in  a 
more  benign  way  was  this: — 

"Pray,  of  what  did  your  brother  die?"  said 
the  Marquis  Spinola  to  Sir  Horace  Vere.  "He 
died,  sir,"  was  the  answer,  "of  having  noth- 
ing to  do!" 

That,  I  thought,  must  have  been  an  easy 
death. 


19 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HIS    PURSUIT    OF    AN    EDUCATION. 

WHEN  I  arrived  at  an  age  when  my 
character  should  have  been  in  some 
measure  "moulded,"  I  was,  like  most  persons 
of  a  peculiar  nervous  temperament,  very  vacil- 
lating and  changeful.  No  one  knew  how  to 
size  me  up;  in  fact,  I  didn't  know  myself.  I 
was  now  constantly  developing  new,  short- 
lived ambitions.  Occasionally  I  became  in- 
dustrious for  a  short  periods  of  time.  Indul- 
gent and  now  prosperous  parents  provided  a 
way  for  me  to  pursue  my  little  ambitions.  I 
had  secured  the  rudimentary  part  of  an  edu- 
cation and  I  determined  to  build  upon  it.  I 
was  going  to  reach  the  topmost  rung. 

It  was  my  ambition — for  a  short  time — to 
obtain  a  classical  education  and  become  one 
of  the  literati;  but  I  soon  became  weary  of 
one  line  of  study,  and  when  a  thing  got  to  be 
too  irksome  I  passed  it  by  for  something  else. 
I  could  not  be  occupied  with  any  study  long 
unless  I  seemed  to  be  progressing  in  it  with 
marvelous  speed.    This  rapid-transit  progress 

20 


Pursuit  of  an  Education. 


was,  of  course,  very  unusual.  I  had  read  that 
quasi-science,  phrenology,  and  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  I  could  not  stick  to  any  one 
thing  because  my  bump  of  "continuity"  was 
poorly  developed. 

I  read  that  a  very  learned  man  used  to  ad- 


My  bump  of  continuity  was  poorly  developed. 

mire  Blackstone ;  so  I  dropped  everything  and 
began  perusing  Blackstone's  Commentaries. 
Soon  after  I  chanced  to  hear  that  Oliver 
Ellsworth  gained  the  greater  part  of  his  in- 
formation from  conversation,  and  I  deter- 
mined upon  this  method  for  a  while.  I  soon 
grew  tired  of  it,  however,  and  next  took  up 

21 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


general  history  and  literature.  While  taking 
my  collegiate  course,  I  pursued  a  number  of 
different  studies,  but  the  pursuit  as  well  as 
the  possession  amounted  to  very  little.  I  had 
taken  up  Greek  and  Latin  and  had  begun  to 
manifest  some  interest  in  these  studies,  when 
a  friend,  in  whom  I  had  some  confidence,  ad- 
vised me  against  wasting  my  time  on  obsolete 
words.  He  said :  ''Learn  English  first,  young 
man.  I'll  wager  there  are  plenty  of  good 
Anglo-Saxon  words  that  you  can't  pronounce 
or  define.  For  example,  tell  me  what  'y-c-1- 
e-p-t'  spells  and  what  it  means." 

Thus  being  picked  up  on  a  trifling,  useless 
English  word,  I  decided  to  give  up  the  study 
of  dead  languages  and  confine  myself  to  my 
mother-tongue.  Rhetoric  and  lexicography 
were  hobbies  with  me  for  a  time,  but  before 
a  great  while  I  thought  I  needed  "mental 
drill";  so  I  turned  my  attention  to  mathe- 
matics. The  subject  became  dry  and  uninter- 
esting in  the  usual  length  of  time;  besides,  I 
began  seriously  to  question  mathematics  as 
being  in  the  utilitarian  class  of  studies.  Cer- 
tainly very  little  of  it  was  necessary  as  a  busi- 
ness qualification.    I  recalled  the  fact  that  one 

22 


Pursuit  of  an  Education. 


of  the  best  business  men,  in  a  mediocre  sta- 
tion of  life,  whom  I  had  ever  known,  could 
not  wTite  his  own  name  and  his  wife  had  to 
count  his  money  for  him.  So  I  threw  away 
my  Euclid  and  tried  something  else;  but  I 
would  voluntarily  tire  of  each  study  in  a  little 
while,  or  drop  it  at  the  counter-suggestion  of 
some  friend.  Thus  I  changed  from  one  course 
to  another  as  a  weather-cock  is  veered  by  the 
ever-changing  wind  to  every  point  of  the  com- 
pass. 

Then  I  took  up  the  fad  of  building  air- 
castles.  It  is  hard  to  laugh  down  this  species 
of  architecture — the  erection  of  atmospheric 
mansions.  Every  one  has  it,  in  a  way,  but 
with  me  it  had  broken  out  in  a  very  virulent 
form.  It  makes  one  feel  mean,  indeed,  to 
arouse  from  one  of  these  Elysian  escapades 
only  to  find  his  feet  on  the  commonest  sort 
of  clay.  Day-dreaming  never  produces  the 
kind  of  dream  that  comes  true,  and  mental 
speculating  is  about  as  useless  as  indulging 
in  Western  mining  stock.  Well-laid  plans  are 
all  right,  but  ideals  that  a^ou  can't  even  hope 
to  live  up  to  have  no  place  in  life's  calendar. 
Dabbling  with  the  unattainable  is  calculated 

23 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


to  sour  us  on  the  world  and  turn  the  milk 
of  human  kindness  into  buttermilk.  It  may- 
be likened  to  the  predicament  in  which  old 
Tantalus  was  placed  in  the  lake,  where  the 
water  receded  when  he  attempted  to  drink  it, 
and  delicious  fruits  always  just  eluded  his 
grasp. 

Next  I  got  hold  of  the  delusion  that  I  was 
studying  and  working  too  hard.  Goodness 
knows  that  what  little  I  did  was  as  desultory 
and  haphazard  as  it  could  well  be,  but  never- 
theless I  stood  in  great  fear  of  a  dissolution 
of  my  gray  matter.  Once  it  seemed  to  me 
that  my  brain  was  loose  in  my  cranium  and 
I  imagined  I  could  hear  it  rattling  around.  I 
went  at  midnight  to  consult  a  physician  in 
regard  to  this  phenomenal  condition.  After 
I  had  described  my  symptoms,  the  doctor 
smiled  rather  more  expansively  than  was  to 
my  liking  and  said: — 

''You  may  have  a  little  post-nasal  catarrh, 
but  I  think  it  is  only  a  neurosis." 

I  thought  to  myself  that  if  it  was  "only" 
a  neurosis  it  was  one  with  great  possibilities. 
The  fact  that  collapses  are  frequent  among 
brain-workers  was  not  easily  dismissed  from 

24 


Pursuit  of  an  Education. 


my  mind.  I  feared  insanity  and  began  to  pic- 
ture how  I  would  disport  myself  in  a  mad- 
house. It  seemed  that  I  could  not  carry  out 
the  medical  advice  to  take  vigorous  exercise, 
as  it  gave  me  palpitation  and  made  me  fear 
that  my  heart  would  go  out  of  business. 

I  concluded  that  the  best  thing  I  could  do 
was  to  take  up  some  fad  to  relieve  my  over- 
worked (?)  brain  and  radiate  some  of  my 
pent-up  energy.  I  had  read  of  the  fads  of 
great  men,  but  I  could  not  decide  after  which 
one  to  pattern.  Nero  was  a  great  fiddler  and 
went  up  and  down  Greece,  challenging  all  the 
crack  violinists  to  a  contest;  the  king  of 
Macedonia  spent  his  time  in  making  lanterns; 
Hercalatius,  king  of  Parthia,  was  an  expert 
mole-catcher  and  spent  much  of  his  time  in 
that  business;  Biantes  of  Lydia  was  the  best 
hand  in  the  country  at  filing  needles;  Theo- 
phylact — whom  nobody  but  a  bookworm  ever 
heard  of — bred  fine  horses  and  fed  them 
the  richest  dates,  grapes  and  figs  steeped  in 
wines;  an  ex-president  of  modern  times  was 
fond  of  fishing  and  spent  much  time  in  pisca- 
torial pursuits.  None  of  these  struck  me  just 
right,  so  I  thought  I  would  be  obliged  to  make 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


a  selection  of  my  own.  First  I  tried  amateur 
photography,  but  this  soon  grew  monotonous 
and  I  gave  it  up.  Next  I  got  a  cornet,  but  I 
soon  found  that  it  required  more  wind  than  I 
could  conveniently  spare.  I  then  tried  hom- 
ing pigeons,  but  before  I  had  scarcely  given 
the  little  aerial  messengers  a  fair  test  I  had 
thought  of  a  dozen  other  things  that  seemed 
preferable.  Everything  proved  alike  tiresome 
and  tedious.  However,  I  found  that  in  chas- 
ing diversions  I  had  forgotten  all  about  my 
imagined  infirmities.  So  perhaps,  after  all, 
the  end  accomplished  justified  the  means  em- 
ployed to  secure  it. 


26 


CHAPTER  V. 

TRIES   TO    FIND   AN    OCCUPATION    CONDUCIVE 
TO    HEALTH. 

TNDECISION  marked  my  life  and  character 
and  I  had  no  confidence  in  myself.  Yet 
I  realized  that  I  had  an  active  brain,  only  that 
it  was  misdirected  and  running  riot.  To  cor- 
rect years  of  improper  thinking  and  living 
may  seem  easy  as  a  theoretical  problem,  but  if 
one  should  find  it  necessary  to  put  the  matter 
to  a  practical  test  on  himself,  he  discovers  that 
it  is  like  diverting  the  course  of  a  small  river. 
I  was  sensitive  and  thought  a  great  deal 
about  myself.  Often  I  entertained  the  effemi- 
nate notion  that  people  were  talking  about  me, 
when  I  ought  to  have  known  that  they  could 
easily  find  some  more  interesting  topic  of  con- 
versation. I  always  went  to  extremes.  I  was 
up  on  a  mountain  of  enthusiasm  or  down  in 
the  slough  of  despondency;  always  elated  or 
depressed;  optimistic  beyond  reason  or  sub- 
merged in  pessimism;  always  the  extremes — 
no  happy  medium  for  me.  I  never  met  any- 
thing on  half-way  grounds. 

27 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


Being  now  of  mature  years,  I  realized  the 
necessity  of  settling  down  to  something,  if 
for  no  other  reason  than  that  I  might  gain 
a  little  more  stability  of  character.  Accord- 
ingly, I  accepted  a  position  as  bookkeeper  in 
a  flour-mill.  I  remained  at  it  longer  than  I 
ever  had  at  anything.  After  a  few  months, 
however,  it  seemed  that  the  close  confinement 
indoors  did  not  agree  with  me.  Sitting  in  a 
stooped  position  over  books  produced  a  sore- 
ness in  the  muscles  of  my  back  and  I  imagined 
that  I  had  incipient  Bright's  disease.  I  have 
since  learned  that  the  kidneys  are  not  very 
sensitive  organs  and  seldom  give  rise  to  much 
pain  even  in  the  gravest  disease.  /  read  up 
on  kidney  affections  in  the  almanacs — oh! 
what  authority! — and  as  I  had  about  all  the 
symptoms,  I  thought  it  best  to  put  myself  on 
the  appropriate  regimen.  I  began  drinking 
buttermilk,  taking  it  regularly  and  in  place  of 
water  and  coflfee.  I  had  read  that  sour  milk 
was  also  conducive  to  longevity,  and  that  if 
one  would  drink  it  faithfully  he  might  live  to 
be  a  hundred  years  old.  A  friend  to  whom 
I  had  confided  this  information  said  that  be- 
tween   swilling   down   buttermilk   a   hundred 

28 


Tries  to  Find  an  Occupation. 


years  and  being  dead,  he  preferred  the  latter. 

There  was  a  decided  improvement  in  my 

case  in  some  respects,  but  I  began  to  acquire 

new    and    different    symptoms,    mainly    from 


I  read 


upm 


the  air 


reading  medicine  advertisements.  My  name 
had  been  seized,  as  I  learned  later,  by  agen- 
cies, and  was  being  hawked  around  to  char- 
latans and  medicine-venders.     Yes,  some  one 

had  put  me  on  the  "invalid  list,"  and  when 

29 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


once  your  name  is  there  it  goes  on,  like  the 
brook,  "forever."  The  medicine-grafters  bar- 
ter in  these  names.  I  have  been  told  that  for 
first-class  invalids  they  pay  the  munificent  sum 
of  fifty  cents  per  thousand!  I  think  that  a 
thousand  of  my  class  ought  to  be  worth  more 
— say,  six  bits !  It  seemed  that  I  was  on  sev- 
eral different  lists,  among  them  being  "ca- 
tarrh," "neurasthenia,"  "rheumatism,"  "in- 
cipient tuberculosis,"  "heart  disease,"  "kidney 
and  liver  affections,"  "chronic  invalidism,"  and 
numerous  others.  I  was  fairly  deluged  with 
letters  begging  me  to  be  cured  of  these  awful 
diseases  before  it  was  forever  too  late. 

One  of  the  symptoms  common  to  all  these 
grave  troubles  was  "indisposition  to  work." 
I  knew  that  I  had  always  suffered  from  it  to 
the  very  limit,  but  I  did  not  know  that  it  was 
dignified  by  being  classed  as  such  a  common 
disease  symptom.  I  also  had  a  number  of 
other  abnormal  feelings  that  were  common  to 
most  of  the  ailments  described.  For  example, 
at  times  I  had  "singing  in  my  ears,"  "distress 
after  eating  too  much,"  "self-consciousness," 
and  "forebodings  of  impending  danger."     I 

30 


Tries  to  Find  an  Occupation. 


always  experienced  great  fear  lest  one  of  these 
''forebodings"  overtake  me  unawares. 

These  letters  were  always  "personal,"  al- 
though the  type-written  name  at  the  top  did 
not  look  exactly  like  the  body  of  the  letter. 
Possibly  they  may  have  been,  in  advertising 
parlance,  "stock  letters."  They  purported  to 
be  from  kind-hearted  philanthropists  who  were 
in  the  business  of  curing  people  simply  because 
they  loved  humanity.  Some  of  them  were 
from  persons  who  had  been  cured  of  some- 
thing and  who  now,  in  a  spirit  of  generosity, 
were  trying  to  let  others  similarly  afflicted 
know  what  the  great  remedy  was. 

While  I  realized  that  these  advertisements 
were  base  lies,  gotten  up  to  deceive  the  sick, 
or  those  who  think  they  are  sick,  and  to  take 
their  money  in  exchange  for  dope  that  was 
worse  than  useless,  yet  the  diabolical  wording 
of  those  sentences  affected  me  in  a  queer  and 
inexplicable  way.  The  psychologist  would, 
perhaps,  call  this  a  subconscious  influence. 
When  a  person  gets  the  disease  idea  rooted 
deeply  in  his  mind,  as  I  had  it,  he  is  kept  busy 
watching  for  new  symptoms.     It  is  no  trouble 

31 


Cojifcssions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


at  all  to  get  some  new  disease  on  the  very 
shortest  notice. 

As  a  more  active  occupation  seemed  neces- 
sary for  me,  I  was  trying  to  study  up  some- 
thing new  to  tackle.  Doctors  had  told  me 
that  I  needed  to  be  out  in  the  open  air  where 
I  could  get  plenty  of  exercise  and  practice  deep 
breathing.  This  agreed  with  me  and  I  seemed 
to  be  gaining  in  strength,  but  I  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  I  might  as  well  turn  my  exer- 
cise into  a  useful  channel;  so  I  went  out  into 
the  country  and  hired  myself  out  to  a  farmer. 
Here  I  got,  in  a  very  short  time,  a  bit  more 
of  the  "strenuous  life" — a  late  term — than  I 
had  bargained  for.  We  had  to  get  up  at 
four,  milk  several  cows,  and  curry  and  harness 
the  horses  before  breakfast.  We  then  kept 
"humping"  until  sunset,  except  during  the 
hour  we  took  for  dinner.  On  rainy  days  we 
were  supposed  to  work  in  the  barn,  greas- 
ing harness,  shelling  seed-corn  and  *'sifting" 
grass-seed.  That  old  farmer  seemed  to  real- 
ize the  verity  of  the  old  couplet: — 

Satan  finds  some  mischief  still, 
For  idle  hands  to  do." 

32 


Tries  to  Find  an  Occupation. 


Looking  for  new  symptoms. 


33 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


The  reader  will  readily  imagine  how  hard 
labor  served  me.  My  muscles  were  as  sore  as 
if  I  had  been  the  recipient  of  a  thorough 
mauling.  I  tried  to  stand  the  work  as  long 
as  I  could,  for  I  thought  it  would,  like  the 
other  remedies  prescribed  for  me,  "do  me 
good."  I  had  been  there  a  week  (it  seemed 
to  me  an  eternity)  when,  one  morning,  I  was 
so  sore  and  stiff  that  I  could  not  get  out  of 
bed.  One  of  the  other  hired  men  came  to  my 
rescue  and  gave  me  a  thorough  rubbing  with 
liniment,  after  which  I  was  able  to  crawl  down 
to  breakfast.  The  old  skinflint  of  a  farmer 
then  had  the  audacity  to  discharge  me,  saying 
that  he  "didn't  want  no  dood  from  the  city 
monkeyin'  around  in  the  way,  nohow." 


34 


CHAPTER  VI. 

NEW  SYMPTOMS  AND  THE  PURSUIT 
OF  HEALTH. 

T^HE  pursuit  of  health  is  hke  the  pursuit  of 
^  happiness  in  that  you  do  not  always  know 
when  you  have  either.  It  may  furthermore 
be  likened  to  chasing  a  will-o'the-wisp  that 
ever  keeps  a  few  safe  paces  ahead  of  you.  The 
thought  that  I  had  to  keep  busy  at  something 
calculated  to  promote  my  health  was  a  habit 
that  I  could  not  easily  relinquish.  So  now  I 
began  to  read  up  and  practice  physical  culture 
— which  I  had  always  spoken  of  as  physical 
torture.  I  had  read  that  any  puny,  warped 
little  body  could,  by  proper  and  persistent 
training,  be  made  sturdy  and  strong.  I  had 
no  desire  to  grow  big,  ugly  muscles  that  look 
like  knots,  but  I  was  efifeminate  enough  to 
think  that  a  touch  of  physical  culture  might 
enhance  my  beauty  as  well  as  make  me 
healthier. 

Calisthenics  being  an  esthetic  exercise,  I 
began  practicing  it  with  the  usual  enthusiasm 
that  marked  the  beginning  of  all  my  under- 

35 


Confessions  of  a  Nmrasthcnic. 


takings.  Before  I  had  made  scarcely  any 
progress  I  decided  that  fencing  would  be  of 
greater  value  to  me,  it  being  an  exercise  re- 
quiring precision  of  movements,  thus  making 
it  of  much  value  in  the  development  of  brain 
as  well  as  of  muscle.  Just  about  the  time  my 
interest  in  fencing  was  keyed  up  to  the  high- 
est pitch,  the  friend  with  whom  I  was  prac- 
ticing accidentally  prodded  me  a  little  on  the 
shoulder.  This  scarced  me  into  abandoning 
the  exercise  as  it  seemed  fraught  with  danger. 
Having  read  that  deep  and  systematic 
breathing  was  considered  by  many  as  being 
the  royal  road  to  health  for  all  whose  stock 
of  vitality  is  below  par,  I  determined  to  give 
it  a  thorough  trial.  Deep-breathing  was  a 
pleasant  exercise  and  easy  to  take;  I  kept  it 
up  for  some  time — perhaps  ten  days.  Per- 
haps I  might  have  continued  it  longer  had  I 
not  about  that  time  accepted  the  invitation  of 
a  friend  to  accompany  him  on  an  automobile 
tour  which  required  several  days.  When  I 
returned  I  was  so  much  improved  in  health 
and  spirits  that  I  was  looking  at  life  from  a 
new  angle.  I  had  forgotten  all  about  the 
needs  of  exercise  and  deep  breathing. 

36 


Nezv  Syuipfoiiis  and  Pursuit  of  Health. 

About  this  time  there  was  a  vacancy  in  our 
city  schools,  occasioned  by  the  death  of  a 
popular  teacher,  and  the  School  Board  reposed 
sufficient  confidence  in  me  to  ask  me  to  take 
the  place.  I  finished  out  the  term  and  gave 
such  satisfaction  to  pupils  and  patrons  that 
the  Board  asked  me  to  accept  the  position  for 
the  ensuing  year  at  an  increased  salary.  But 
I  declined,  on  the  ground  that  my  health  would 
not  permit  it.  I  was  slipping  back  into  my 
old  w^ays!  New  symptoms  were  appearing, 
but  the  old  ones,  like  old  friends,  seemed  the 
firmest,  and  all  made  their  return  at  varying 
intervals. 

Among  other  things  from  which  I  now  suf- 
fered were  insomnia,  melancholia,  heart  irreg- 
ularity, and  a  train  of  mental  symptoms  and 
feelings  which  common  words  could  not  begin 
to  describe.  It  would  have  required  an  assort- 
ment of  the  very  strongest  adjectives  and  ad- 
verbs to  have  told  any  one  how  I  felt.  For 
the  first  time,  my  stomach  was  now  giving  me 
a  little  trouble  and  my  appetite  was  ofif.  I 
went  to  see  a  stomach  specialist  who  looked 
me  over  and  gravely  informed  me  that  I  had 
psychasthenia  anorexia.    This  was  a  new  one 

37 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


on  me.  For  all  I  knew  about  the  term,  it  may 
have  been  obsolete  swearing.  I  did  not  real- 
ize then  that  a  little  medical  learning  to  a 
layman  is  a  dangerous  thing. 

This  doctor  prescribed  exercise,  as  had  all 
the  others  whom  I  had  ever  consulted.  As 
it  was  the  consensus  of  medical  opinion  that 
I  needed  exercise,  I  thought  I  would  take  it 
scientifically  and  in  the  right  manner;  so  I 
employed  a  qualified  masseur  to  give  me  mas- 
sage treatment.  I  thought  passive  exercise 
preferable  to  the  active  kind.  This  fellow, 
however,  did  not  try  to  please  me — he  insisted 
on  rubbing  up  when  I  wanted  him  to  rub 
down,  and  vice  versa — so  I  discharged  him. 
Next  I  took  up  swimming  and  rowing,  but 
one  day  I  had  a  narrow  escape  from  drown- 
ing, so  that  gave  me  a  distaste  for  these  things. 

It  seemed  that  I  had  about  exhausted  all 
the  physical  culture  methods  that  might  be 
considered  genteel  and  in  my  class.  Perhaps 
it  may  be  more  literally  correct  to  say  that  I 
had  formed  a  nodding  acquaintance  with  the 
most  of  them. 

One  day,  as  I  was  wondering  what  new 
thing  I  could  annex,  the  postman  handed  me 

38 


A'czv  Syjupfoins  and  Pursuit  of  Health. 


Informed  me  I  had  psychasthenia  anorexia. 


39 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


a  letter.  No  psycholoj^y  about  this,  for  the 
postman  comes  every  day  and  I  get  letters 
nearly  every  day.  But  this  letter  contained 
an  advertisement  of  an  outfit  that  was  guar- 
anteed to  increase  the  stature.  Now  I  was 
tall  enough,  but  I  had  a  new  vanity  that  I  felt 
like  humoring  just  then.  When  I  occasionally 
appeared  at  social  functions  I  wanted  to  be 
designated  as  "the  tall,  handsome  bachelor." 
I  thought  that  if  I  went  through  a  course  of 
exercises  stretching  my  ligaments  and  tendons 
it  would  also  conduce  to  health  and  strens^th. 
Growing  tall  ought  to  be  healthy,  all  right, 
I  thought.  So  I  got  the  apparatus — a  fiend- 
ish-looking thing,  composed  of  ropes,  straps, 
buckles,  and  pulleys — and  I  set  it  up  in  an 
unused  shed.  I  had  taken  exercises  with  it  a 
few  days  and  liked  it  first-rate.  One  evening, 
about  dusk,  I  went  out  to  take  my  usual  "turn" 
and  had  just  put  on  a  head-gear  suspended 
from  a  rope.  This  by  a  sort  of  hanging  act 
was  to  develop  and  elongate  the  muscles  of 
the  neck.  Just  as  I  swung  myself  loose,  two 
burly  policemen  hopped  over  the  fence  from 
the  alley,  cut  the  rope,  and  were  dragging  me 
off  to  the  lock-up  in  spite  of  my  pleadings  and 

40 


Nezv  Symptoms  and  Pursuit  of  Health. 

protests.  I  tried  to  assure  them  that  I  was 
not  a  lunatic  and  that  I  was  not  bent  on  sui- 
cide. "Shure,  thot's  what  they  all  say!"  was 
the  cold  comfort  they  gave  me.  As  luck  would 
have  it,  I  at  last  discovered  that  I  had  in  my 
pocket  some  of  the  directions  that  went  with 
this  new  trouble-maker.  I  prevailed  upon 
these  big"  duffers  to  read  it  by  their  flash- 
lights, and  it  had  its  convincing  eft'ect  upon 
them.  In  disgust  they  released  me,  one  saying 
to  the  other: — 

"If  I'd  knowed  thot,  I'd  let  the  dom'd  fool 
hang  a  week!" 

The  next  day  I  advertised  the  apparatus  for 
sale,  cheap. 


41 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    NEURASTHENIC    FALLS    IN    LOVE. 

TN  writing  this  sketch  it  is  the  endeavor  to 
^  carry  up  the  different  emotions  and  char- 
acteristics of  my  hfe  in  all  their  phases,  as  well 
as  to  chronicle  the  vagaries  resulting  directly 
from  alleged  ailments.  To  do  this  without 
seeming  digressions  and  inconsistencies  is  not 
an  easy  task;  therefore  this  word  of  explana- 
tion seemed  apropos. 

In  the  affairs  of  the  heart  the  neurasthenic 
is,  as  some  one  has  said  of  the  heathen  Chi- 
nee, "peculiar."  As  I  have  lived  a  life  of 
celibacy  so  long,  I  feel  free  to  speak  frankly 
on  this  matter.  After  reading  this  chapter  I 
am  sure  that  no  fair  reader  will  picture  me 
as  her  matinee  idol;  and  I  am  quite  sure  that 
no  good  woman  would  undertake  the  shaky 
job  of  making  me  happy  "forever  and  a  day." 
She  could  never  learn  what  I  wanted  for 
breakfast.  I  never  know  myself,  which  for 
the  present  moment  is  neither  here  nor  there. 

When  very  adolescent  I  was  engrossed  in 
a  few  exceedingly  tame  little  love  affairs  which 

42 


Neiwasthcnic  Falls  in  Love. 


were  of  short  duration  and  easy  to  get  over. 
These  httle  loves  are  hke  mumps  and  whoop- 
ing-cough and  other  youthful  affections :  they 
seem  necessary,  but  seldom  prove  serious. 
Aside  from  these,  I  had  been  proof  against  the 
tender  passion  throughout  all  that  period  of 
my  life  when,  according  to  the  poet,  "a  3'oung 
man's  fancy  lightly  turns  to  thoughts  of  love." 
While  I  was  getting  on  in  years  the  love  germ 
was  only  sleeping,  and  when  it  awakened  all 
the  lost  time  was  soon  made  up.  I  had  always 
admired  the  female  sex  collectively  and  at  a 
distance,  but  individually  no  one  had  ever  en- 
tered my  life  until  I  met  Genevieve.  The  plot 
thickens!  While  temporarily — I  did  every- 
thing temporarily — holding  a  position  on  one 
of  our  daily  papers,  I  suddenly  became  in- 
fatuated with  this  young  lady  who  occupied 
a  type-writer's  desk  near  my  own.  She  was 
a  charming  girl  of  twenty  and  I  will  dive  into 
the  matter  by  saying  that  I  was  madly  in  love 
with  her.  She  gave  me  every  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  there  were  responsive  chords  touched 
in  her  heart,  and  that  my  affection  was  fully 
reciprocated.  I  became  wilder  every  day!  I 
could  not  be  away  from  this  fair  creature  who 

43 


Coufrssious  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


had  changed  the  whole  current  of  my  being. 
I  was  supremely  happy  and  looked  at  life 
through  spectacles  different  from  any  I  ever 
had  before.  Life  had  a  roseate  hue  that  it  had 
never  before  possessed.  Music  was  sweeter, 
fiowers  were  prettier  and  pictures  brighter 
than  ever  before.  I  seemed  to  be  walking 
around  in  poetry  and  at  the  same  time  living 
up  near  heaven.  While  all  this  was  true,  I 
was  at  the  same  time  miserable — a  sort  of 
ecstatic  misery.  It  took  away  my  appetite, 
made  sleep  impossible  and  filled  my  life  with 
wavering  hopes  and  fears.  The  suspense  was 
killing  me!  At  the  first  opportunity  I  threw 
myself,  metaphorically,  at  her  feet,  and  un- 
burdened myself  about  in  this  manner: — 

"Darling,  you  are  my  love  and  my  life  and 
I  cannot,  and  will  not,  live  without  you.  What 
is  your  answer?  Make  up  your  mind  before 
I  do  something  desperate.  Don't  let  me  over- 
persuade  you,  loved  one,  but  if  you  think  I 
can  make  you  happy,  say  the  word.  My  life 
is  in  your  hands.  If  you  spurn  me  I  shall  pass 
out  of  your  life  forever.  Dear  one,  what  will 
you  do?     Pray,  speak  quickly!" 

44 


N curasthenic  Falls  in  Love. 


She  was  listening  attentively  and  I  repeated 
the  question  that  I  thought  would  soon  seal 
my  fate:     "What  will  you  do?" 

My  charmer  gave  vent  to  a  little  chuckle 
and  said:     "Suppose  zve  mildezv?" 

That  was  the  proverbial  "last  straw"  with 
me.  Or  to  multiply  similes,  my  love  was 
blighted  like  a  tomato  plant  in  an  unseasonable 
frost,  and  I  vowed  that  since  I  was  brought 
to  my  senses  I  would  never  make  love  to  an- 
other woman. 

A  few  months  later  I  had  forgotten  this 
incident.  I  happened  one  day  to  be  reading 
a  book  entitled  Ideals  which  gave  much  in- 
formation on  the  subject  of  life-mating.  As 
the  reader  may  infer  I  was  still  a  great  reader. 
In  fact  I  was  a  veritable  walking-encyclo- 
pedia filled  with  a  mass  of  information,  most 
of  which  was  of  no  earthly  account.  The 
book  in  question  had  a  great  deal  to  say  con- 
cerning soul  affinities,  why  marriages  were 
successes  or  failures,  and  gave  rules  for  select- 
ing a  sweetheart  who  would,  of  course,  later 
bear  a  closer  relationship.  The  writer  thought 
somewhere  there  was  a  soul  attuned  to  our 
own,  and  that  sooner  or  later  we  would  get 

45 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


in  unison.  This  sounded  nice  and  impressed 
me  favorably,  as  most  new  things  did.  I  re- 
called that  Genevieve  was  short  on  the  affinity 
part  of  the  deal.  With  the  aid  of  the  book, 
I  figured  out  that  my  ideal  was  a  beautiful 
blonde  with  soulful  eyes,  into  whose  liquid 
depths  I  should  some  day  feastingly  gaze.  I 
made  up  my  mind  that  if  ever,  in  an  un- 
guarded moment,  I  should  again  try  my  hand 
at  love-making,  I  would  temper  it  with  science 
and  the  eternal  fitness  of  things.  I  now  knew 
how  it  should  be  done. 

Soon  after  this  I  was  for  a  short  time  on 
the  road  as  a  commercial  traveler  and  had 
some  opportunity  to  watch  for  my  affinity.  I 
at  last  was  rewarded  by  finding  her  in  the 
daughter  of  a  customer  who  lived  in  an  in- 
land town.  She,  too,  was  a  charming  girl, 
and  with  me  it  was  a  case  of  love  at  first 
sight.  I  realized  at  once  that  the  Genevieve 
affair  was  spurious  and  not  the  real  thing.  I 
thought  how  different  was  this  case  with 
Eleanor — for  that  was  the  name  my  affinity 
bore.  I  adored  this  queenly  little  maid  with 
the  golden  hair,  and  resolved  on  my  next  visit 
to  her  town  to  ask  her  to  be  mine.     I  was 

46 


Neurasthenic  Falls  in  Love. 


combining  business  and  heart  matters  in  a 
way  that  enabled  me  to  make  Eleanor's  little 
city  quite  frequently.  Unfortunately,  before 
I  made  a  return  visit  I  was  bruised  up  a  little 
in  a  railroad  wreck,  in  consequence  of  which 
I  went  to  a  hospital  for  repairs.  It  was  noth- 
ing serious,  but  just  enough  to  incapacitate 
me  for  a  few  days,  and  I  thought  I  would 
fare  better  in  the  hospital  than  at  a  hotel.  The 
nurse  who  attended  me  was  a  pretty  brunette 
and  she  captivated  me.  I  would  lie  there  and 
longingly  watch  for  the  re-appearance  of  her 
natty  uniform  and  sweet  smile.  Yes,  I  was 
desperately  in  love  with  Josephine,  for  besides 
being  fair  to  look  upon,  she  could  do  some- 
thing to  add  to  my  comfort.  I  forgot  all 
about  Eleanor  and  ideals;  not  because  I  was 
a  trifler  with  the  hearts  of  women,  but  simply 
because  in  this  matter,  as  in  everything,  I  did 
not  know  my  own  mind.  I  was  very  reluctant 
to  leave  the  hospital  and  remained  as  long  as 
I  could.  Before  going,  however,  I  made  love 
overtures  toward  Josephine.  That  lady  smiled, 
not  unkindly,  and  then  turned  and  picked  up 
a  magazine  called  Nurses'  Guide.  She  pointed 
to  a  bit  of  colloquy  which  read  as  follows: — 

47 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


Man  Patient — ''Will  you  not  promise  me 
(groans)  that  when  I  recover  (more  groans) 
you  will  fly  with  me?" 

Fair  Nurse — "Sure,  I  will;  I  have  just 
promised  a  one-legged  man  who  has  a  wife 
and  three  children  to  run  away  with  him.  I 
will  promise  you  anything;  it's  a  part  of  the 
business." 

Once  more  I  realized  that  I  was  simply  liv- 
ing on  the  earth. 

Whenever  I  found  a  young  woman  who 
combined  good  looks,  real  worth  and  a  prac- 
tical mind,  she  was  usually  engaged  to  some 
one  else.  Perhaps  I  was  too  hard  to  please. 
I  would  for  a  vdiile  admire  brunettes  and  then 
suddenly  develop  a  preference  for  blonds.  I 
would  for  another  short  season  think  that  tall 
girls  were  my  choice,  but  in  a  little  while  my 
fancy  would  switch  around  to  those  who  were 
rather  small  and  petite.  Sometimes  I  thought 
that  only  a  woman  who  possessed  musical  and 
literary  accomplishments  would  ever  find  favor 
with  me.  Then  again  I  would  think,  should 
I  ever  marry,  1  would  choose  some  little  coun- 
try lass  and  train  her  up  according  to  my 
ideas  and  ideals.     So  this  has  been  my  life- 


Neurasthenic  Falls  in  Love. 


time  attitude  toward  the  feminine  half  of  the 
world.  It  is  my  weakness  and  not  my  fault. 
In  consequence  of  which,  am  I  to  be  despised 
and  rejected  of  women? 

But,  w^omankind,  you  have  nowhere  a  more 
ardent  admirer  and  defender  than  you  \\i\\ 
find  in  yours  truly! 


49 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

MORBID    FEARS   AND    FANCIES. 

TT  should  be  remembered  that  I  am  now 
'*•  a  full-fledged  neurasthenic,  with  all  the 
rights  and  privileges  that  go  with  the  job. 
Yes,  Webster  defines  a  job  as  being  an  un- 
dertaking. Neurasthenia  is  certainly  an  '*un- 
dertaking,"  therefore  it  must  be  a  job — a  big 
one  at  that.  It  interferes  with  the  holding  of 
any  more  remunerative  job  and  consumes  most 
of  one's  time  in  trying  to  keep  his  health  in  a 
passable  condition.  I  have  had  positions  of 
some  importance  handed  to  me,  which  I  dis- 
charged with  eminent  satisfaction  to  all  con- 
cerned until  I  got  ready  to  go  off  at  some  new 
tangent.  If  I  did  not  imagine  myself  in  the 
actual  embrace  of  some  grave  physical  or 
mental  disease,  I  feared  that  something  would 
in  the  near  future  attack  me ;  and  that  brings 
me  to  the  main  topic  of  this  chapter — morbid 
fears. 

These  foolish,  fanciful  and  often  groundless 
fears  are  dignified  by  the  name  of  "phobias." 
A  man  who  is  afraid  of  everything  should  not 

50 


Morbid  Fears  and  Fancies. 


be  dubbed  a  low-down  coward — he  is  simply 
afflicted  with  "pantaphobia."  It  doesn't  cost 
a  bit  more  to  be  scientific  and  it  carries  with 
it  more  eclat. 

Another  one  of  these  fears  is  agoraphobia 
— the  fear  of  an  open  space.  A  fellow  who 
has  it  is  afraid  to  cross  an  open  lot  or  field, 
and  if  he  does  make  the  venture,  he  carries 
with  him  a  big  stick  or  some  weapon  of  de- 
fense. This,  like  many  other  phobias,  is  ex- 
plained by  scientists  as  being  of  simian  in- 
heritance. Our  grandparents  who  lived  in 
trees  a  few  thousand  years  ago  had  a  much 
tougher  struggle  for  existence  than  any  of  us 
have  today.  Tree-tops  were  their  only  places 
of  safety.  If  one  of  them  happened  to  fall  out 
of  a  tree  into  an  open  space  on  the  ground 
where  there  was  nothing  to  climb  into,  he  was 
likely  to  be  attacked  by  a  lion  or  a  tiger.  This 
always  filled  the  life  of  our  little  ancestor  with 
intense  fear  and  so  afifected  his  brain  that  the 
impress  of  it  has  been  handed  down  and  occa- 
sionally crops  out  in  some  of  us.  Our  dreams 
of  falling,  we  are  told,  are  a  vestige  of  the 
mental  condition  experienced  by  our  monkey- 

51 


Confessions  of  a  NcurastJicnic. 


foreparents   when  they  made  a  misleap  and 
fell  to  the  ground. 

There  is  also  the  fear  of  a  confined  area, 
the  fear  of  a  crowd,  fear  of  loss  of  speech  at 
an  inopportune  moment,  fear  of  falling  build- 
ings, fear  of  being  alone,  fear  of  poison,  fear 
of  germs,  fears  ad  naitseain.  I  have  qualified 
in  all  of  them  and  taken  post-graduate  courses. 

Another  one  of  these  fears  I  shall  speak 
of  and  in  no  spirit  of  levity.  It  is  too  pathetic 
for  pleasantry  or  jest.  It  is  the  fear  that  you 
will  in  some  thoughtless  moment,  when  the 
occasion  is  most  ill-timed,  utter  some  vulgar 
or  profane  word.  These  ugly,  repulsive  words 
or  thoughts  will  cling  with  the  greatest  ten- 
acity and  defy  every  efifort  to  eradicate  them. 
They  are  of  a  nature  entirely  foreign  to  one's 
disposition  and  character;  for  the  neuras- 
thenic, with  all  his  eccentricities,  is  usually 
refined  and  exemplary.  A  minister  of  the 
Gospel  whose  life  was  of  almost  immaculate 
purity  stated  that  the  word  "damn"  often  tor- 
tured his  life  and  caused  him  to  fear  that  he 
would  give  it  an  untimely  utterance.  I  have 
found  that  many  persons  are  similarly  afflicted, 
but  are  rather  reluctant  to  let  their  fears  be 
known. 

52 


Morbid  Fears  and  Fancies. 


Hydrophobia  demands  a  few  words.  A  few 
times  in  childhood  I  was  scratched  by  a  dog, 
in  consequence  of  which  I  stood  in  mortal  fear 
of  hydrophobia.  It  was  a  popular  belief  that 
the  poison  of  rabies  might  lie  latent  in  the 
system  and  not  manifest  itself  until  years  after. 
This  belief  obtains  with  many  people  to-day. 
The  "madstones"  in  the  possession  of  many 
credulous  people  help  to  perpetuate  the  fear  of 
this  awful  disease.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
madstone  is  simply  a  porous  rock  which  may 
adhere  to  a  warm,  moist  surface  and  exert  an 
absorbent  action.  Any  poison  introduced  un- 
der the  skin  is  disseminated  through  the  sys- 
tem in  less  than  two  minutes.  If  the  doctor 
ever  gave  you  a  hypodermic,  your  knowledge 
on  this  point  is  convincing.  The  folly  then 
of  applying  something,  days  or  weeks  later, 
to  absorb  the  poison  of  a  mad-dog's  bite  from 
a  localized  spot  is  at  once  apparent.  Any 
owner  of  one  of  these  stones  who  hires  it  out 
should  be  prosecuted  for  getting  money  under 
false  pretense,  and  then  dealt  with  by  the  hu- 
mane societies  for  engendering  morbid  and 
groundless  fears. 

Scientific  men  are  yet  divided  on  the  ques- 
tion as  to  whether  or  not  hydrophobia  is  a 

53 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


bona  fide  disease,  or  whether  it  is  only  a  func- 
tional disturbance  in  which  the  element  of  fear 
predominates.  No  hydrophobia  germ  has 
ever  been  isolated,  and  when  the  doctors  these 
days  can't  find  a  germ  to  fit  a  disease,  it  looks 
as  if  there  was  something  wrong.  It  has  many 
times  been  demonstrated  that  persons  of  a 
susceptible  nature  can  be  scared  to  death.  But 
I  don't  care  how  much  assurance  I  get  from 
scientific  sources,  I  can't  get  over  the  habit 
of  being  a  little  exclusive  in  regard  to  un- 
canny canines. 

There  is  scarcely  a  disease  or  a  symptom 
that  I  ever  heard  of  that  has  not  at  some  time 
preyed  upon  my  mind  lest  I  become  a  victim 
of  it.  These  fears  are  hard  to  throw  off  or 
laugh  out  of  existence  when  once  they  have 
become  a  part  of  your  very  being.  In  order 
to  avert  untoward  conditions  which  I  thought 
might  overtake  me,  I  have  changed  from  one 
occupation  to  another  about  as  often  as  the 
man  in  the  moon  modifies  his  physiognomy. 
In  making  these  changes  I  have  often  found 
it  about  like  dodging  an  automobile  to  get  hit 
by  a  street  car. 


54 


CHAPTER  IX. 

GERMS   AND    HOW    HE   AVOIDED   THEM. 
APPENDICITIS. 

jV/IORBID  fears  have  been  briefly  men- 
^^ *^  tioned.  It  may  now  be  in  order  for 
me  to  chronicle  some  of  the  hygienic  measures 
that  I  have  pursued  with  a  view  to  averting 
diseases  to  which  I  thought  I  might  succumb. 
In  a  former  chapter  I  reported  having  sub- 
jected myself  to  many  rigid  conditions  in  the 
hope  of  ridding  myself  of  infirmities  which  I 
then  had.  Now  I  am  looking  to  the  future 
with  the  idea  that  prevention  is  better  than 
cure. 

The  germ  theory  gave  me  a  great  deal  of 
worry.  I  learned  a  bit  about  it  and  some  of 
the  habits  of  the  ubiquitous  bacillus.  In  this 
matter  the  little  learning  was,  as  usual,  a  dan- 
gerous thing.  Germs  were  constantly  on  my 
mind,  if  not  in  my  brain.  It  seemed  that  they 
were  ever  lying  in  wait  for  me  and  there  was 
no  avenue  of  escape.  Sometimes  my  scrupu- 
lous care  in  trying  to  ignore  the  microbe 
caused  me  to  be  the  subject  of  unfavorable 

55 


Coiifcssious  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


comment.  Once,  at  communion  service,  I  took 
pains  to  give  the  cup  a  thorough  rubbing  be- 
fore putting  it  to  my  chaste  hps.  It  had  just 
passed  an  unkempt  and  unwashed  brother,  and 
for  my  httle  act  of  circumspection  I  gained 
his  ill-will.  However,  on  the  next  occasion 
the  cup  came  direct  to  me  from  the  lips  of  a 
good-looking  young  woman  and  I  remember 
that  I  did  not  take  the  usual  precautions.  This 
shows  how  inconsistent  I  was.  I  have  since 
learned  that  some  of  the  most  virulent  germs 
are  to  be  found  in  the  mouths  of  young  ladies 
of  the  "Gibson-girl"  type. 

When  I  was  necessarily  obliged  to  quench 
my  thirst  at  a  public  drinking-place  I  drank 
up  close  to  the  right  side  of  the  handle  of  the 
cup,  as  I  thought  that  would  be  the  spot  least 
contaminated.  In  order  not  to  breathe  any 
more  germs  than  I  could  possibly  avoid,  I  kept 
away  from  theatres  and  places  where  motley 
crowds  assemble  and  shunned  dust  and  impure 
air  as  I  would  a  leper.  I  had  read  that  there 
was  on  the  market  a  sanitary  mask  to  be  worn 
when  going  to  places  where  there  was  the 
greatest  danger  of  coming  into  contact  with 
germs,  but  I  did  not  think  that  I  could  work 

56 


Germs  and  Hozu  He  Avoided  Them. 


The  wind  was  blowing  a  hurricane  through 
my  room. 


57 


Co}ifcssio)is  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


up  sufficient  nerve  to  appear  in  public  muz- 
zled in  this  way.  I  knew  from  reading  how 
many  million  microbes  of  different  kinds  there 
are  inhabiting  every  cubic  inch  of  air,  and 
it  was  indeed  appalling  to  think  what  even 
one  of  them  would  do  for  me  if  it  chanced 
to  hit  me  in  a  vulnerable  spot.  I  did  the  best 
I  could  and  kept  my  windows  open  wide  both 
day  and  night,  that  some  of  these  little  imps 
of  Satan  might  ride  out  on  the  breeze.  On  a 
cold  day  I  zvonld  sit  shivering  zvith  my  over- 
coat and  heavy  zvraps  on,  zvhile  the  zvind  zvas 
blozjving  a  hurricane  through  my  room.  At 
this  some  of  the  neighbors  were  wont  to  smile, 
but  when  they  rather  intimated  that  I  was  a 
little  off  I  reminded  them  that  Columbus  and 
all  other  men  who  lived  in  advance  of  the 
times  were  regarded  as  hopeless  lunatics. 

One  evening  when  I  went  to  bed  with  my 
windows  open  as  usual  the  weather  was  quite 
warm,  but  the  temperature  suddenly  fell  dur- 
ing the  night  and  I  chilled,  in  consequence  of 
which  I  nearly  had  pneumonia.  After  that  I 
thought  it  best  to  exclude  some  of  the  elements 
and  try  to  put  up  with  the  germs.  I  went  to 
the  other  extreme  of  avoiding  fresh  air.     My 

58 


Genus  and  Hozv  He  Avoided  Them. 

main  reason  for  doing  so  was  that  I  read  that 
one  could  become  immune  to  his  own  brand 
of  germs — the  kind  that  constantly  live  in  your 
own  house  and  eat  your  own  food.  I  thought 
this  seemed  reasonable,  on  the  same  principle 
that  parents  can  get  used  to  their  own  chil- 
dren easier  than  they  can  to  other  people's 
pestiferous  brats.  I  don't  know  that  there  is 
science  about  any  of  this — no  means  of  escape 
is  all  there  is  to  it. 

Of  late  years  I  have  changed  my  opinion 
regarding  germs,  the  same  as  I  have  done  over 
and  over  regarding  everything  else.  We  are 
all  apt  to  think  that  the  only  good  germs  are 
like  good  Indians — dead  ones.  Perhaps  most 
of  these  microscopic  creatures  are  conserva- 
tive and  play  some  useful  part  in  life's  econ- 
omy if  we  only  knew  what  it  is.  Then  we 
don't  know  whether  microbes  are  the  cause  or 
the  product  of  disease — just  as  we  don't  know 
which  came  first,  the  hen  or  the  egg.  What 
we  don't  know  in  this  matter  would  make  a 
stupendous  volume.  At  any  rate  it  is  of  no 
use  to  run  from  germs,  for  they  are  omni- 
present. 

59 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


Appendicitis  was  a  disease  that  I  spent 
much  time  in  battHng.  I  read  up  on  it  and 
knew  all  the  symptoms.  I  went  to  the  public 
library  and  hunted  up  a  Gray's  Anatomy  and 
studied  the  appendix.  It  seemed  to  be  a  little 
receptacle  in  which  to  side-track  grape-seeds 
and  other  useless  rubbish.  I  would  no  sooner 
have  knowingly  swallowed  a  grape-  or  a 
lemon-seed  than  I  would  a  stick  of  dynamite. 
I  would  not  eat  oysters  lest  I  get  a  piece  of 
shell  or  even  a  pearl  into  my  vermiform  appen- 
dix. I  was  exceedingly  careful  never  to  swal- 
low anything  which  I  thought  might  contain 
a  gritty  substance.  I  had  once  heard  a  lec- 
turer on  hygiene  and  sanitation  speak  of  the 
limy  coat  which  forms  on  the  inside  of  our 
tea-kettles  from  using  ''hard"  water.  He 
stated  that  in  time  we  would  get  that  sort  of 
crust  inside  of  us  from  drinking  water  which 
contained  mineral  matter.  I  thought  how  easy 
it  would  be  for  some  of  it  to  chip  off  and  slip 
into  the  appendix  and  set  up  an  inflammation. 
So  to  be  on  the  safe  side,  I  thought  I  would 
try  drinking  spring  water  for  a  while,  but  it 
gave  me  a  bad  case  of  malaria.  I  then  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  between  being  dead  with 

60 


Germs  and  How  He  Avoided  Them. 

chills  and  having  an  inner  concrete  lining  I 
would  choose  the  latter,  which  seemed  the 
lesser  evil.  But  with  some  friend  being  oper- 
ated upon  for  appendicitis  nearly  every  day 
I  could  not  easily  dismiss  this  disease  from 
my  mind.  Yet  I  realized  that  it  was  a  high- 
toned  disease  and  also  a  high-priced  one,  and 
that  most  fellows  with  my  commercial  rating 
are  immune  from  it. 

I  happened  to  be  visiting  a  friend  in  a  small 
town,  for  a  few  days,  and  was  acquiring  a 
voracious  appetite.  One  evening  I  was  seized 
with  a  sudden  pain,  and  I  knew  the  dread  dis- 
ease had  come  at  last.  The  doctor  came.  He 
was  an  old-fashioned  fellow  without  any  frills, 
but  he  had  what  books  and  colleges  do  not 
always  bestow — a  head  full  of  common  sense. 
I  said: — 

''Doctor,  will  it  have  to  be  done  to-night?" 

"What  done?"    asked  the  doctor. 

"Because,"  I  replied,  putting  my  hand  on 
my  left  side,  where  the  pain  was,  "I  have 
appendicitis  and  I  supposed " 

"My  friend,"  said  this  well-seasoned  phy- 
sician, "you  are  perhaps  not  aware  of  the  fact 
that  the  appendix  is  on  the  right  side." 

6i 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


My  knowledge  of  anatomy  had  betrayed  me. 

The  old  doctor  then  gave  me  this  homely 
advice,  which  may  or  may  not  be  correct.  At 
any  rate  I  never  forgot  it.     He  said: — 

"You've  been  eating  too  much  and  have  a 
little  indigestion  and  stomach-ache.  But  like 
thousands  of  others  who  have  fertile  imagi- 
nations, you  have  appendicitis — on  the  brain. 
People  rarely  had  this  disease  thirty  years  ago. 
Why  should  they  have  it  so  frequently  to-day? 
Is  the  human  body  so  radically  different  from 
what  it  was  a  few  years  ago?  I  have  been 
practicing  my  profession  here  for  twenty-five 
years  and  during  all  this  time  I  have  seen 
very  few  cases  of  severe  appendicitis,  and 
those  recovered  under  common-sense  medical 
treatment.  There  may  be  an  occasional  case 
that  require's  the  surgeon's  knife,  but  such 
are  exceedingly  rare." 

I  have  never  since  had  a  symptom  of  the 
disease,  and  somehow  I  can't  help  associating 
appendicitis  with  hospitalifis. 


62 


CHAPTER  X. 

DIETING    FOR    HEALTH's    SAKE. 

I^EXT  I  must  say  something  about  my 
"^^  ^  dietetic  ventures.  I  have  at  one  time 
and  another  eaten  everything  and  again  es- 
chewed everything  in  the  way  of  diet,  all  for 
the  sake  of  promoting  health  and  longevity. 
I  had  read  somewhere  that  a  man  is  simply 
a  reflex  of  what  he  puts  into  his  stomach,  and 
also  that  by  judicious  eating  and  drinking  he 
may  easily  live  to  be  one  hundred  years  old. 
I  started  out  to  reach  the  century  milestone. 
Why  I  wanted  to  attain  an  unusual  age  I  am 
unable  to  explain,  for  I  am  sure  that  my  life 
was  not  so  profitable  to  myself  or  to  anybody 
else.     But  that  is  another  story. 

I  dieted  myself  in  various  ways.  It  seemed 
to  be  on  the  ''cut  and  try"  plan,  for  when  one 
course  of  regimen  proved  disappointing,  I  very 
promptly  tried  something  else — usually  the 
very  opposite.  I  was  very  fond  of  cofifee,  but 
I  read  that  it  was  the  strongest  causative  fac- 
tor in  the  production  of  heart  disease.  In 
medicine  advertisements  in  the  newspapers  I 

63 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


saw  men  falling  dead  on  the  street  as  a  result 
of  heart  failure — always  the  same  man,  it  is 
true;  but  that  made  little  difference  to  me. 
I  cut  out  both  tea  and  coft'ee  and  drank  only 
milk  and  water.  When  I  got  to  reading  about 
tuberculous  cows  and  the  action  of  State 
Boards  of  Health  and  public  sanitarians  in 
the  matter,  I  became  afraid  to  continue  drink- 
ing milk.  Next  I  drank  only  cocoa  for  a  short 
season. 

I  took  two  or  three  health  magazines,  but 
the  opinions  contained  therein  were  so  con- 
flicting that  it  was  a  difficult  matter  for  me 
to  follow  any  of  them.  For  example,  in  one 
of  them  I  read  that  no  person  who  ate  pickles, 
vinegar  and  condiments  could  hope  to  live  to 
a  healthy,  green  old  age.  Another  stated  that 
good  vinegar  and  condiments  in  moderation 
caused  the  gastric  fluids  to  flow  and  thus  ma- 
terially aided  in  the  process  of  digestion. 

For  awhile  I  was  a  confirmed  vegetarian. 
The  idea  of  man  slaughtering  animals  to  eat 
was  repulsive  to  me  in  the  extreme.  I  recalled 
that  the  good  Creator  had  in  Holy  Writ  spoken 
of  giving  His  children  all  kinds  of  fruits  and 
herbs  for  food,  but  had  not  said  much  about 

64 


Dieting  for  Health's  Sake. 


edible  animals.  An  argument  against  flesh- 
eating  was  the  fact  that  some  of  our  strongest 
animals,  the  horse,  the  ox  and  the  elephant, 
never  touch  meat.  I  followed  the  vegetarian 
system  of  dietetics  for  some  time,  and  while 
it  seemed  to  agree  with  me,  I  had  some  mis- 
givings as  to  whether  or  not  it  w^as  the  best 
thing  for  me.  The  thought  happened  to  occur 
to  me  that,  after  all,  we  had  a  few  powerful 
animals  that  subsist  almost  wholly  upon  the 
animal  kingdom.  Among  these  were  the  lion, 
the  tiger  and  the  leopard.  The  argument  that 
all  the  strong  animals  eat  only  herbs  and  fruits 
was  here  knocked  galley-west.  I  began  eat- 
ing meat  again,  although  as  I  now  look  at 
my  actions  in  this  matter  I  can  see  no  earthly 
reason  why  I  should  have  turned  either  herbiv- 
orous or  carnivorous.  There  was  certainly 
no  sense  in  trying  to  make  a  horse  or  a  tiger 
out  of  myself. 

One  day  I  thought  I  would  look  up  a  few 
points  regarding  the  relative  value  of  foods 
from  a  scientific  basis.  In  my  chemistry  I 
ran  across  a  table  giving  the  quantity  of  water 
contained  in  certain  foods.  I  found  that  about 
everything  I  had  been  eating  was  the  aqueous 

5  65 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


fluid  served  up  in  one  way  or  another.     Here 
is  a  part  of  the  table: — 

Per  cent,  water 

Watermelon 98 

Cabbage    92 

Carrots 83 

Fish 81 

Cucumbers 97 

Beets 88 

Apples 80 

Meat 75 

That  was  an  eye-opener.  I  was  getting  less 
than  10  per  cent,  of  nourishment  in  nearly 
everything  that  I  ate.  Thus,  I  should  be 
obliged  to  eat  nearly  a  hundred  cucumbers  and 
as  many  heads  of  cabbage  to  get  one  of  the 
real  thing.  I  was  afraid  that  I  was  impos- 
ing upon  the  good  nature  of  my  stomach  in 
asking  it  to  digest  so  much  water  and  debris 
in  order  to  get  a  little  nutriment  into  my  sys- 
tem. I  thought  it  would  be  better  to  drink 
the  water  as  such  and  take  my  food  in  a  more 
concentrated  form.  The  body  being  composed 
of  proportionately  so  much  more  fluids  than 
solids,  I  concluded  that  plenty  of  pure  water 
with  a  minimum  quantity  of  food  would  be 

66 


Dieting  for  Health's  Sake. 


worthy  of  trial.  For  a  little  while  I  drank 
water  copiously,  and  each  day  ate  only  an  tgg 
and  a  small  piece  of  toast,  with  an  occasional 
apple  or  orange  thrown  in  mainly  to  fill  up. 

When  a  new  kind  of  food — a  cereal  prod- 
uct, it  was  supposed  to  be — appeared  on  the 
market  and  was  heralded  as  a  great  life-giver, 
I  became  one  of  its  faithful  consumers.  There 
were  some  fifteen  or  twenty  of  these  and  I 
had  eaten  in  succession  nearly  all  of  them — I 
mean  my  share  of  them.  It  read  on  the  boxes : 
"Get  the  habit;  eat  our  food,"  and  I  was  doing 
pretty  well  at  it  until  I  met  with  a  discourage- 
ment. One  day  I  met  a  traveling  man  who 
told  me  that  in  a  town  in  Indiana  where  there 
was  a  breakfast-food  factory,  hundreds  of  car- 
loads of  corn-cobs  were  shipped  in  annually 
and  converted  into  these  tempting  foods.  My 
relish  for  this  article  of  diet  left  me  instanter. 

I  partook  of  one  kind  of  dietary  for  a  while 
and  then  changed  to  something  so  entirely 
dififerent  that  my  stomach  began  to  rebel  in 
earnest.  My  appetite  became  very  capricious. 
Sometimes  I  got  up  at  one  or  two  in  the  morn- 
ing and  went  to  a  night  restaurant  nearby  and 
would  try  my  hand,  or  rather  my  stomach,  on 

(>7 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


a  full  meal  at  this  most  unseasonable  hour. 
Then  at  times  quite  unseemly  I  would  get 
such  an  insatiable  appetite  for  onions,  pea- 
nuts, or  something,  that  it  was  only  appeased 
by  hunting  up  the  thing  desired.  I  began 
taking  syrup  of  pepsin  to  artificially  digest  my 
food  and  thus  take  some  of  the  burden  off  my 
stomach.  A  friendly  druggist  took  sufficient 
interest  in  me  to  inform  me  that  there  was 
not  enough  pepsin  in  the  ordinary  digestive 
syrups  and  elixirs  to  digest  a  mosquito's  din- 
ner. When  asked  why  this  ferment  was  omit- 
ted from  such  preparations,  the  druggist  con- 
fided to  me  in  a  whisper:  "Pepsin  is  a  drug 
that  costs  money,  while  diluted  molasses  is 
cheap." 

As  I  had  apparently  not  made  much  of  a 
success  at  dieting  myself,  I  thought  I  would 
consult  a  physician  who  called  himself  a  spe- 
cialist on  ^'metabolism."  I  first  thought  the 
name  had  some  reference  to  metals,  but  I  found 
out  differently.  This  man  gave  me  what  he 
was  pleased  to  term  a  "test  breakfast,"  for 
the  purpose  of  diagnosing  my  case.  Now, 
good  friends,  if  you  never  had  a  "test  break- 
fast" from  one  of  these  ultra-scientific  men, 

68 


Dieting  for  Health's  Sake. 


you  are  just  as  weU  off  in  blissful  ignorance 
of  it.  Take  my  word  for  it,  it  is  also  calcu- 
lated to  put  your  good  nature  to  the  test.  This 
doctor  found  out  everything  that  I  was  eating 
and  then  told  me  to  eat  just  the  opposite. 

A  few  weeks  later  I  went  to  see  another 
specialist  of  the  same  kind.  I  wanted  to  com- 
pare notes.  This  man,  too,  inquired  carefully 
into  what  I  was  eating.  I  knew  at  once  that 
he  wanted  to  prescribe  something  different. 
Sure  enough,  when  I  told  him  what  my  bill- 
of-fare  now  was  he  threw  up  his  hands  and 
said:  *'Man,  those  things  will  kill  you!"  He 
told  me  to  go  back  to  my  former  diet. 

So  many  doctors  act  on  the  presumption 
that  we  are  doing  the  wrong  thing.  It  re- 
minds me  of  this  little  conversation  between 
a  mother  and  her  nurse-maid: — 

Mother — "Martha,  what  is  Johnnie  doing?" 

Martha — "I  don't  know,  mum." 

Mother — "Well,  find  out  what  he  is  doing 
and  tell  him  to  stop  it  this  very  minute." 

By  the  way,  I  learned  a  few  things  in  an 
experimental  process  about  the  great  subject 
of  alimentation.  No  matter  much  what  we 
eat,  the  system  appropriates  what  elements  it 

69 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


wants.  The  taste  bulbs  were  planted  in  our 
mouths  for  a  useful  purpose.  Our  taste  is 
about  the  surest  index  to  the  body's  require- 
ments in  the  matter  of  nourishment.  If  our 
appetite  calls  for  a  thing  and  it  tastes  all  right, 
it  will  do  us  good  whether  it  be  carbo-hydrate 
or  hydro-carbon  or  something  else. 


70 


CHAPTER  XL 

TELLS   OF  A    FEW   NEW    OCCUPATIONS    AND 
VENTURES. 

/'^NLY  casual  mention  has  been  made  for 
^-^  a  while  concerning  my  occupations. 
The  reader  may  imagine  that  in  the  pursuit 
of  health  I  found  no  time  to  engage  in  the 
usual  avocations  of  life.  If  such  be  your 
opinion  I  would  say,  be  at  once  undeceived. 
The  neurasthenic  has  the  faculty  of  being 
able  to  turn  off  more  work  of  a  varied  and 
useless  character  than  any  person  living.  I 
had  a  fund  of  information,  mainly  of  a  super- 
ficial nature,  but  it  enabled  me  to  turn  my 
hand  to  a  great  many  different  things.  I  had 
once  studied  shorthand  and  I  put  this  acquire- 
ment to  what  I  thought  was  a  useful  purpose. 
I  carried  a  number  of  note-books  and  took 
down  everything  that  I  saw  or  heard.  When- 
ever a  man  of  reputed  wisdom  was  heard 
speaking,  either  from  the  rostrum  or  in  pri- 
vate conversation,  I  was  busy  in  the  mechan- 
ical act  of  writing  it  down,  and  in  so  doing 
failed  to  get  from  the  talk  that  inspiration 

71 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


which  is  so  often  more  important  than  the 
mere  words  of  the  story.  I  had  such  a  mess 
of  notes  in  these  httle  hooks  and  crooks  that 
I  never  found  time  to  hunt  anything  up  and 
read  it  over.  In  fact,  I  doubt  whether  in  all 
this  rubbish  I  could  have  found  anything  I 
wanted  had  I  searched  ever  so  long.  Still  I 
obtained  considerable  information,  mainly  as 
I  did  when  a  boy,  by  absorption. 

I  was  full  of  tables  and  statistics.  By  keep- 
ing some  of  these  in  my  brain  in  an  easy  place 
to  get  at  them  when  wanted,  I  was  able  to 
formulate  rules  and  plans  for  almost  any  con- 
dition that  might  arise.  By  unloading  ab- 
struse and  unusual  facts  at  the  proper  time 
and  place  I  gained  the  reputation  of  being  a 
very  shrewd  fellow,  but  I  was  always  careful 
to  introduce  subjects  in  which  my  assertions 
were  likely  to  go  unchallenged.  I  had  estab- 
lished the  habit  of  reasoning  by  deduction  and 
analogy,  and  would  often  startle  people  by 
what  they  thought  was  my  profound  wisdom. 
I  had  a  system  of  cues  by  which  I  tried  to 
cultivate  a  memory  so  tenacious  that  nothing 
could  escape  me,  but  this  proved  a  great  deal 
like    my    voluminous    note-taking.      It    often 


Nezv  Occupations  and  Ventures. 


crowded  out  some  things  of  the  most  vital 
importance;  besides,  I  often  forgot  my  cues 
— ^just  as  one  ties  a  string  in  his  button-hole  to 
keep  from  forgetting  something  and  then  for- 
gets to  look  at  the  string. 

By  my  suave  manners  and  versatile  speech 
I  was  enabled  to  work  myself  into  the  good 
graces  of  people  and  thus  obtain  desirable  po- 
sitions. But  always  on  some  pretext  I  shifted 
from  one  thing  to  another.  Once  I  held  for 
a  short  time  a  very  remunerative  place  in  a 
banking  establishment,  but  I  got  to  thinking 
that  in  case  of  robbery  or  defalcation  I  might 
be  unjustly  accused;  so  I  promptly  handed  in 
my  resignation.  Through  the  recommenda- 
tions of  influential  friends  I  was  next  able 
to  secure  a  Government  clerkship  which  I  held 
for  a  few  months.  My  reason  for  remaining 
with  it  so  long  was  perhaps  due  to  the  fact 
that  I  became  interested  in  social  problems 
and  I  was  in  touch  with  a  class  of  people 
from  whom  I  could  obtain  valuable  ideas.  As 
soon  as  I  thought  T  had  mastered  the  intri- 
cacies of  socialism,  I  started  out  on  a  lecture 
tour.  I  wanted  to  enlighten  benighted  human- 
ity on  economic  matters  and  unfold  to  it  a 

72, 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


scheme  that  would  hft  the  burden  of  poverty 
from  its  shoulders.  If  I  could  get  this  feasible 
plan  of  mine  in  operation,  with  the  proper 
distribution  of  wealth  and  everybody  compelled 
to  work  just  a  little,  we  could  all  have  a  toler- 
able easy  time.  The  poor,  over-worked  and 
under-fed  people  would  then  have  a  chance  to 
read  and  cultivate  their  minds.  It  did  not 
occur  to  me  at  the  time  that  among  the  wealthy 
who  had  oceans  of  time  there  was  a  paucity 
of  mind  cultivation. 

The  lecture  was  a  failure;  my  ideas  were 
too  far  in  advance  of  the  times,  and  I  realized 
as  never  before  that  great  movements,  like 
great  bodies,  must  move  slowly.  However, 
two  or  three  wealthy  and  enthusiastic  co- 
workers came  to  my  financial  rescue  right 
nobly.  I  could  usually  find  some  one  fool 
enough  to  ''back  up"  any  scheme  I  might  see 
fit  to  project. 

The  next  thing  I  conceived  was  to  work  to 
the  front  in  a  manufacturing  industry  of  some 
kind.  I  had  read  that,  for  mastering  all  the 
details  of  a  business,  there  was  nothing  like 
beginning  at  the  ground  and  working  up. 
Nearly  all  men  of  affairs  had  begun  in  that 

74 


New  Occupations  and  Ventures. 


way;  why  should  I  not?  Accordingly  I 
started  in  as  a  laborer  in  a  foundry  with  the 
full  determination  of  forging  to  the  front. 
But  the  first  day  I  burned  my  hand  and  I  at 
once  gave  up  the  idea  of  ever  becoming  a 
captain  of  industry. 

Having  dabbled  in  literary  work  a  little  at 
odd  times  I  had  obtained  a  slight  recognition 
as  a  writer.  My  vivid  imagination  had  im- 
pressed two  or  three  magazine  editors  favor- 
ably. One  of  these  in  particular  called  for 
more  of  my  short  stories,  and  in  his  letter  oc- 
curred these  sentences : — 

"You  have  what  is  known  to  psychologists 
as  'creative  imagination/  but  you  paint  your 
pictures  in  a  plausible  manner.  You  are  great 
on  synonyms:  seldom  use  a  word  of  any 
length  more  than  once  in  the  same  manuscript ; 
and  last,  but  not  least,  your  diction  is  so  clear 
and  concise  that  it  seems  to  the  reader  that 
you  are  talking  to  him." 

This  swelled  me  up  with  conceit  and  I 
thought  if  these  words  be  true,  why  should 
I  bury  my  talents  in  a  little  magazine  in  ex- 
change for  a  paltry  twenty-five  dollars  per 
thousand  words?     I  would  write  a  play  and 

75 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


do  something  worth  while.  Just  as  I  had  the 
skeleton  of  the  play  well  formed  and  a  good 
start  made  on  it,  I  came  into  the  possession 
of  a  few  thousand  dollars  by  the  death  of  an 
uncle  in  California.  I  at  once  invested  the 
money  in  a  farm — the  most  sensible  thing  I 
ever  did.  Now  I  thought  that  I  would  move 
to  the  country  and  live  the  life  of  a  retired 
country  gentleman.  The  seclusion  of  rural 
life  would  better  enable  me  to  put  vim  and  in- 
spiration into  my  literary  efforts.  But  I 
found  that  the  farm  was  too  lonesome,  with 
only  hired  help  about  me,  so  I  secured  a  tenant 
and  hied  back  to  my  city  quarters. 

These  are  only  a  few  of  my  undertakings. 
Everything  was  "for  a  short  time."  This 
phrase  occurs  monotonously  often,  a  fact  of 
which  I  am  not  unaware,  but  I  don't  know 
how  to  obviate  it. 

While  most  of  my  ventures  have  been  fail- 
ures, as  the  world  reckons  failure,  yet  they 
have  all  been  a  source  of  satisfaction  to  me. 
Some  day  I  feel  that  I  shall  find  a  life-work 
that  will  be  to  my  liking  and  have  a  salutary 
effect  upon  me  mentally  and  physically. 


7^ 


CHAPTER  XII. 

TRIES    A    NEW    BUSINESS;     ALSO    TRAVELS    SOME 
FOR    HIS    HEALTH. 

A  S  the  reader  may  have  already  surmised, 
'*^*'  the  play  mentioned  in  the  preceding 
chapter  was  never  finished.  No;  after  I  was 
once  more  domiciled  in  my  city  home,  I  began 
to  think  that  if  I  really  was  a  literary  genius 
I  ought  to  commercialize  my  ideas  right,  in- 
stead of  using  them  in  fiction  or  drama  simply 
to  tickle  the  fancy  of  people  who  would  forget 
it  all  in  a  moment's  time.  The  idea  of  teach- 
ing things  by  mail  occurred  to  me  as  being  a 
field  of  great  possibilities. 

While  it  is  a  difficult  matter  to  give  tangible 
lessons  by  correspondence  methods  on  some 
subjects  —  swimming,  for  example  —  yet  on 
nearly  everything  there  may  be  presented  a 
working  knowledge  which  the  student  can 
enlarge  upon  for  himself.  I  employed  some 
auburn-haired  typewriters  and  began  adver- 
tising to  teach  several  dififerent  subjects  by 
mail  courses.  x\mong  these  were  journal- 
ism, poultry-raising,  bee-culture,  market-gar- 

17 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


dening,  surveying,  engineering,  architecture, 
and  several  different  things.  We  gave  our 
graduates  a  nice  diploma  with  some  blue  rib- 
bon and  cheap  tinsel  on  it.  These  diplomas 
cost  about  twenty  cents  apiece  to  get  them  up, 
which  seemed  like  a  reckless  waste  of  money, 
but  it  helped  to  advertise  the  business.  Busi- 
ness came  and  we  hadn't  much  to  do  except 
to  deposit  the  money  and,  incidentally,  send 
out  the  "stock  letters,"  which  the  girls  always 
jokingly  called  the  "lessons." 

One  day  one  of  the  typewriters  called  my 
attention  to  the  fact  that  for  originality  I  had 
been  outdone  by  a  fellow  at  Peoria,  Illinois, 
who  advertised  in  the  leading  magazines  to 
teach  ventriloquism  by  mail.  This  was  cer- 
tainly an  innovation  in  the  way  of  mail  in- 
struction. I  thought  a  little  while  about  some- 
thing entirely  new  that  I  could  introduce.  I 
soon  had  it !  I  got  up  a  correspondence  course 
in  courting  for  the  purpose  of  straightening 
out  the  crooked  course  of  true  love.  I  argued 
that  nearly  everything  else  had  been  simplified 
save  courting,  which  went  on  in  the  old  labori- 
ous manner  with  lovers'  quarrels,  heartaches, 
and    ofttimes    life-time    estrangements.      The 

78 


Tries  a  New  Business. 


course  was  a  success  and  many  wrote  for 
"individual"  instruction. 

Things  were  going  well  and  I  had  a  lucra- 
tive business.  I  had  been  so  busy  for  several 
months  that  all  my  symptoms  had  sunk  into 
desuetude.  I  had  almost  forgotten  that  I  was 
an  invalid  and  that  I  should  take  care  of  my 
precious  health,  what  little  I  had  left,  when 
the  thought  occurred  to  me,  as  it  had  several 
years  before,  that  I  was  working  too  hard. 
Then,  too,  I  became  a  little  conscience-stricken. 
My  conscience  had  never  before  troubled  me, 
probably  from  the  fact  that  I  had  never  worked 
it  overtime.  I  began  to  think  that  in  these  cor- 
respondence courses  I  might  not  be  giving  my 
patrons  value  received  for  their  money.  A 
pretty  record  for  me  to  leave  behind  me,  I 
thought.  So  as  I  had  a  competency  anyway, 
I  paid  off  my  helpers  and  went  out  of  business. 

As  I  now  thought  I  was  again  on  the  very 
edge  of  a  nervous  breakdown,  I  concluded  to 
travel  for  my  health.  Where  to  go  was  the 
next  question!  A  medical  friend  suggested  a 
sea-voyage,  but  advised  me  to  first  take  a  sail 
for  a  day  or  so  on  Lake  Michigan.  T  did  so 
and  became  so  seasick  that  death  would  have 

79 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


been  joyously  welcomed.  I  did  not  take  the 
proposed  voyage,  as  I  had  had  enough. 

But  the  germ  that  prompted  me  to  travel 
for  my  health  had  a  firm  grip  on  me.  Colo- 
rado was  my  first  objective  point,  and  on  the 
first  day  of  my  arrival  there  I  went  to  the  top 
of  one  of  their  snow-capped  mountains.  I  had 
not  taken  into  account  the  effects  of  altitude 
upon  a  person  not  accustomed  to  it,  and  in 
consequence  of  my  sudden  ascent  I  had  a 
slight  expectoration  of  blood.  This  seemed 
to  be  cause  for  genuine  alarm,  and  I  now  re- 
alized that  I  was  to  be  a  victim  of  "the  great 
white  plague,"  vulgarly  known  as  consump- 
tion. Consumptives  were  as  thick  as  English 
sparrows  in  Colorado  and  I  saw  ample  evi- 
dences of  the  disease  in  all  its  horrible  details. 
It  seemed  that  there  was  a  sort  of  caste  among 
the  "lungers,"  depending  mainly  upon  their 
amount  of  ready  cash.  Some  had  plain  "con- 
sumption," while  others  had  only  "tuberculo- 
sis." Many  had  "lung  trouble,"  "catarrh," 
"bronchitis,"   and — "neurasthenia." 

The  patients  in  the  sanitariums  were  graded. 
The  most  advanced  cases  were  called  the  "B. 
L.   B's."— "The  Busted  Lung  Brigade."     It 

80 


Tries  a  Nczv  Business. 


seems  that  there  is  no  condition  too  grim  for 
joke  and  jest.  On  all  sides  there  were  cough- 
ing and  expectorating  and  suffering  and  dy- 
ing, sufficient  to  dismay  the  stoutest  heart — 
and  I  a  victim  myself,  I  thought. 

I  heard  that  the  torrid  southwest  was  the 
ideal  climate  for  tuberculosis  and  thither  I 
went.  I  visited  a  few  places  in  this  hot  south- 
western country  where  it  is  alleged  that  con- 
sumptives in  all  stages  soon  recover  and  grow 
fat.  I  soon  learned  that  these  alluring  reports 
should  be  taken  with  the  usual  quantity  of 
saline  matter.  This  boosting  of  climate  for 
invalids,  I  found,  was  mainly  the  work  of  land 
sharks,  railroads,  hotel  and  sanitarium  peo- 
ple, and  a  few  medical  men  who  were  crafty 
or  misguided.  This  climate  may  be  ideal  in 
being  germ-free,  but  where  it  is  so  hot  and 
dry  that  even  germs  can't  eke  out  an  existence, 
it  is  also  a  trifle  trying  on  the  tender-foot  con- 
sumptive. I  found  that  the  bad  water  and 
sand-storms  in  many  localities,  coupled  with 
his  homesickness,  more  than  ofi:"-set  all  the 
good  results  the  climate  could  otherwise  bring 
to  the  sufferer. 


Co)tfcssio}is  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


In  nearly  every  room  I  occupied  while  in 
this  Mecca  for  consumptives,  the  place  had 
been  rendered  vacant  by  my  predecessor  hav- 
ing moved  out — in  a  box.  I  did  not  stay  in 
one  locality  very  long,  but  visited  a  number  of 
places  that  were  exploited  as  being  the  land 
of  promise  for  all  afflicted  with  this  agonizing 
disease.  Everywhere  I  went  I  saw  hundreds 
of  victims  being  shorn  of  their  money  and  de- 
riving meager,  if  any,  benefits.  The  native 
consumptives  went  elsewhere  in  search  of 
health,  it  being  another  case  of  "green  hills 
far  away."  Many  went  so  far  as  the  State  of 
Maine. 

Every  State  in  the  Union  has  at  some  time 
been  lauded  as  the  favored  spot  for  the  cure 
of  consumption,  but,  after  all,  it  seems  as 
mythical  as  the  pot  of  gold  at  the  end  of  the 
rainbow.  Some  climates  may  be  better  than 
others  for  those  ill  with  this  disease,  but  if 
you  are  a  poor,  homesick  sufferer — a  stranger 
in  a  strange  land — I  doubt  whether  the  best 
climate  on  earth  can  vie  with  the  comforts  of 
home,  surrounded  by  those  nearest  and  dear- 
est to  you,  and  whose  kindly  administrations 

82 


Tries  a  New  Business. 


are  not  to  be  regarded  as  a  case  of  "love's 
labor  lost." 

I  returned  home  "much  improved  in  health." 
Don't  think  I've  had  a  tuberculous  symptom 
since. 


83 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

TRIES    A    RETIRED    LIFE;      IS    ALSO    AN    INVESTI- 
GATOR   OF     NEW    THOUGHT,     CHRISTIAN 
SCIENCE,    HYPNOTIC    SUGGESTION, 
ETC. 

TJAVING  now  decided  upon  a  retired  life 
^  '^  in  earnest,  I  had  nothing  to  do  but  to 
look  after  my  health  and  enjoy  myself  as  best 
I  could.  I  would  settle  down  and  have  a  good 
time  after  a  genteel  fashion  and,  as  the  poet 
says:  "Gather  ye  rosebuds  while  ye  may." 
I  would  cultivate  the  little  niceties  and  ameni- 
ties that  go  to  embellish  and  round  out  one's 
life  and  character.  I  would  add  a  few  touches 
to  enhance  my  personal  charms.  I  would 
manicure  my  nails;  iron  out  my  "crow  feet"; 
bleach  out  my  freckles ;  keep  my  hair  softened 
up  with  hirsute  remedies,  and  my  mustache 
waxed  out  at  the  proper  angle.  Whenever  I 
appeared  in  society  I  did  not  mean  to  take  a 
back  seat  or  be  a  wall-flower,  realizing  that 
bachelors  of  my  age  and  standing  were  very 
popular  in  a  social  way.  However,  I  did  not 
intend  to  get  entangled  in  the  meshes  of  love 

84 


Tries  a  Retired  Life. 


again,  remembering  the  Genevieve-Eleanor- 
Josephine  affairs.     No  wedding  bells  for  me! 

Yes,  I  would  take  life  easy  and  I  was  always 
thinking,  "next  week  I  shall  go  to  work  en- 
joying myself."  But  time  slipped  along  and 
somehow  I  could  not  get  started  in  on  the  road 
to  happiness.  As  I  had  nothing  else  to  do  I 
could  not  understand  why  I  should  not  be  su- 
premely happy.  But  I  found  it  hard  work 
doing  nothing;   I  could  not  enjoy  myself  at  it. 

Again  I  began  to  grow  introspective  and 
melancholy,  and  soon  had  a  return  of  all  my 
symptoms  of  old.  They  all  came  trooping  in 
to  pay  me  a  visit  for  the  sake  of  auld  lang 
syne.  How  should  I  treat  them?  To  get  rid 
of  unwelcome  visitors  often  requires  study  and 
tact.  I  had  tried  about  all  the  "health  and 
hygiene"  rules  that  had  ever  been  invented. 
But  while  this  was  true,  I  take  a  certain  de- 
gree of  pride  in  saying  that  among  all  the 
absurd  measures  to  which  I  have  resorted,  I 
never  made  a  practice  of  taking  dopes  and 
cure-alls.  There  are  depths  to  which  a  self- 
respecting  neurasthenic  will  not  stoop.  One 
of  these  is  taking  patent  medicines  and  nos- 
trums.   Whenever  an  individual  has  descended 

85' 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


so  low  that  he  imbibes  these  things,  he  has 
gotten  out  of  our  class  and  has  become  a  com- 
mon, every-day  fiend.  No,  the  neurasthenic  is 
no  commonplace  fellow.  He  may  undergo  a 
useless  operation  for  appendicitis,  but  he  will 
not  swill  down  dirty  dopes.  His  office  is  high- 
toned  and  esthetic.  Perhaps  that  is  the  main 
reason  why  he  is  so  often  reluctant  to  give  it 
up  and  be  cured.  He  may  display  morbid  fears 
and  fancies  that  border  on  lunacy,  and  he  may 
do  some  freakish  and  atrocious  things,  but  for 
all  that  he  is  usually  a  man  of  good  points  and 
perhaps  superior  attainments.  Our  cult  is  re- 
spectable and  made  up  of  gentlemen  who  sel- 
dom defile  their  mouths  or  stomachs  with  to- 
bacco, cigarettes,  impure  words  or  patent  med- 
icine. 

But  I  could  not  refrain  from  doing  some- 
thing for  my  health's  sake.  After  taking  a 
little  mental  survey  of  the  past,  I  saw  at  once 
that  all  of  nature's  methods  had,  at  one  time 
and  another,  been  called  into  my  service.  It 
seemed  to  be  an  unconscious  rule  of  action  on 
my  part  never  to  do  the  same  thing  twice  if 
it  could  be  avoided.  Now  I  resolved  to  invade 
the  realm  of  the  speculative  and  unseen  by 

86 


Tries  a  Retired  Life. 


dipping  into  New  Thought.  The  subject 
seemed  to  be  fascinating,  although  one  in 
which  there  was  still  something  to  be  learned. 
The  psychic  research  people  claimed  to  have 
telepathy  and  thought  transference  about  on  a 
paying  basis.  I  thought  that  if  I  could  get 
some  strong  "health  waves"  permeating  my 
system  it  would  do  me  good.  The  thing  to  do 
was  to  get  my  psychic  machinery  attuned  to 
that  of  some  good  healthy,  clean-minded  indi- 
viduals who  were  skilled  in  this  line  of  busi- 
ness. I  attended  the  meetings  of  a  Theosophy 
Mutual  Admiration  Society  and  tried  to  get 
some  of  their  wholesome  thoughts  worked  into 
my  system.  It  seemed  to  act  nicely  and  the 
results  were  gratifying,  but  I  was  of  the  opin- 
ion that  perhaps  Christian  Science  was  better 
adapted  to  my  needs.  It  would  be  a  stunner 
to  be  able  to  address  a  little  speech  about  like 
this  to  myself: — 

"The  joke  is  on  you,  old  chap;  you  don't 
feel  any  of  those  symptoms  you  have  com- 
plained of  all  these  years.  Why?  Well,  be- 
cause you  haven't  anybody  and  haven't  any- 
thing to  feel  with.    Mind  is  all  there  is  to  you 

87 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


and — and — and  I'm  afraid  there  is  not  enough 
of  it  to  give  you  much  trouble." 

I  liked  Christian  Science  pretty  well,  al- 
though the  name  seemed  to  me  somewhat  of 
a  misnomer.  The  main  part  of  it  consisted  in 
trying  to  make  me  believe  that  nothing  is  or 
ever  was.  Just  a  great  big,  overgrown  imagi- 
nation. However,  I  cannot  refrain  from  per- 
petrating that  old  gag  about  their  taking  real 
money  for  what  they  did  for  me. 

I  soon  dropped  science  and  was  treated  by 
hypnotic  suggestion.  I  would  seat  myself  in 
an  easy-chair  midst  seductive  surroundings 
and  the  great  metaphysician  would  then  say: 
"Put  your  objective  senses  in  abeyance  with 
complete  mental  oblivion,  and  enter  a  state  of 
profound  passivity."  This  interpreted  into 
plain  United  States  would  mean:  "Forget 
your  troubles  and  go  to  sleep."  When  I  was 
in  a  suggestible  mood  the  doctor  would  ad- 
dress a  little  speech  to  what  he  called  my  sub- 
conscious mind,  after  which  he  sent  me  on  my 
way  rejoicing.  About  this  time  a  friend  ad- 
vised me  to  consult  a  vibrationist,  which  I  did. 

This  man  told  me  that  the  trouble  in  my 
case  was  in  my  polarization ;  not  enough  posi- 


Tj'ies  a  Retired  Life. 


tive  for  the  negative  elements.  However,  he 
assured  me  that  I  could  be  cured  by  sleeping 
with  my  head  to  the  northwest  and  wearing 
his  insulated  soles  inside  my  shoes.  I  post- 
poned taking  this  treatment  until  after  I  had 
heard  from  an  astrologist  to  whom  I  had  writ- 
ten. The  latter  agreed  to  tell  me  all  I  cared 
to  know  about  m3^self  and  my  ailments,  which 
he  would  deduce  from  the  date  of  my  birth. 
His  graphic  description  of  the  diseases  to 
which  I  was  liable  gave  me  a  favorable  im- 
pression of  his  astute  wisdom.  So  I  wrote  to 
about  a  dozen  other  astrologists  for  horoscopes 
of  my  life  in  order  to  see  whether  all  their 
findings  were  the  same.  Some  of  them  tallied 
almost  verbatim  with  the  first  one  received, 
while  others  were  diametrically  opposite. 
From  this  I  inferred  that  these  star-gazers 
gained  their  information  in  at  least  two  ways : 
from  their  imaginations  and  from  a  book. 


89 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE    CULTIVATION    OF    A    FEW    VICES    AND    THE 
CONSEQUENCES. 


w 


HEN   I   found  that  I  couldn't  possibly 
do  nothine: — I  do  not  mean  this  in  the 


^t> 


ungrammatical  sense  in  which  it  is  so  often 
used — I  thought  I  would  be  obliged  to  take 
up  some  new  calling  or  diversion.  Time  hung 
heavily  on  my  hands  and  I  thought  too  much 
about  myself,  as  usual.  A  mental  healer  had 
told  me  that  I  was  too  imaginative  and  thought 
of  too  many  different  things.  He  said:  "A 
part  of  the  time  try  to  think  of  absolutely 
nothing;  think  of  yourself."  I  did  not  know 
whether  he  meant  this  literally  or  as  a  bit  of 
sarcasm.  Anyway,  I  realized  that  it  was  best 
for  me  to  keep  the  ego  in  subjection  so  far 
as  possible.  But  to  what  new  things  could  I 
now  turn  in  order  to  divert  my  mind  from 
myself  and  my  ailments? 

I  had  always  led  a  life  very  exemplary  and 
free  from  even  the  petty  vices  usually  indulged 
in  by  the  best  of  men.  I  had  never  engaged 
in   the  little  pleasantries  and   frivolities  that 

90 


Cultivates  a  Few  Vices. 


might  be  of  questioned  propriety.  I  would 
often  remark  that  I  had  never  had  a  cigar  be- 
tween my  teeth,  never  had  utered  a  cuss  word, 
never  kissed  a  girl,  and  so  on.  For  this  my 
friends  would  sometimes  twit  me  and  say: 
"Old  boy,  you  don't  know  what  you've  missed !" 
Another  quotation  rung  in  my  ears  was:  "Be 
good  and  you'll  be  happy,  but  you'll  miss  a 
lot  of  fun!"  So  I  thought  I  would  pursue  a 
different  course  for  a  while.  It  was  an  awful 
thing  to  do,  but  I  was  set  upon  putting  it  to 
the  test :  I  would  cultivate  a  few  delicate  vices. 
One  day,  when  a  very  good  friend  was  vis- 
iting me,  I  thought  I  would  begin  on  my  course 
of  depravity.  The  first  lesson  would  be  in 
swearing.  When  an  opportunity  presented  it- 
self, I  uttered  a  word  that  I  thought  was  strong 
enough  for  an  amateur  to  begin  on.  It  stuck 
in  my  throat  and  nearly  choked  me.  My 
friend  laughed  and  looked  both  amused  and 
ashamed.  Reader,  if  you  have  lived  to  ma- 
turity and  never  indulged  in  profanity,  you 
can't  imagine  how  awkward  it  will  be  for  you 
to  turn  out  your  first  piece  of  swearing.  You 
can't  do  it  justice.  With  no  disposition  to 
want  to  sermonize  on  the  matter  I  would  say, 

91 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


don't  begin.  I  have  seen  several  women — or 
rather  females — who  could  beat  me  swearing 
all  hollow. 

Next,  I  thought  I'd  try  smoking.  In  theory 
only  I  knew  some  of  the  seductive  effects  of 
]\Iy  Lady  Nicotine.  I  would  experience  the 
reality.  I  purchased  a  box  of  cigars,  and  in 
making  my  selection  I  depended  mainly  upon 
the  label  on  the  box,  as  women  do  when  they 
buy  birthday  cigars  for  their  husbands.  When 
I  got  in  seclusion  I  took  out  one  and  smoked 
about  an  inch  of  it.  Pretty  soon  things  began 
going  round  and  an  eruption  occurred  inside 
of  me.  Words  are  inadequate  to  describe  how 
sick  I  became,  so  I  shall  not  make  the  attempt. 
It  is  needless  to  state  that  I  at  once  abandoned 
the  idea  of  ever  being  able  to  extract  any  satis- 
faction from  tobacco  fumes. 

No  more  self-contamination  for  me,  I 
thought.  But  soon  after  these  events  an- 
other friend  prevailed  upon  me  to  sample  with 
him  a  most  excellent  brand  of  champagne. 
The  blood  mounts  to  my  cheeks  in  "maidenly" 
shame  as  I  now  chronicle  the  occurrence.  This 
friend  said :  "You  don't  know  what  a  feeling 
of  exhilaration  and  well-being  a  little  good 
champagne  will  give  you.    Try  it  once;   don't 

92 


Cultivates  a  Few  Vices. 


associate  it  with  common  alcoholic  stimulants." 
Those  last  words,  well-meant  but,  to  me,  mis- 
leading, caused  me  to  make  a  spectacle  of  my- 
self for  a  short  period  of  time.  While  I  par- 
took of  this  fizzing  beverage  lightly,  the  reader 
will  understand  how  readily  the  stuff  affected 
my  susceptible  system  and  how  quickly  it  went 
to  my  head.  And  then  it  seemed  to  have  stay- 
ing qualities.  The  next  morning  I  was  crazier 
than  ever,  but  toward  evening  I  crawled  out 
on  the  lawn  in  a  secluded  corner.  The  fresh 
air  did  me  good,  but  for  several  hours  I  had 
to  hold  on  to  the  grass  to  keep  from  dropping 
off  the  earth. 

Here  I  halted  on  my  road  to  ruin.  I  resolved 
that  between  remaining  a  neurasthenic  who 
enjoyed  the  respect  and  esteem  of  a  large  cir- 
cle of  friends,  and  becoming  a  depraved  wretch, 
I  would  choose  the  former.  I  had  no  ambition 
to  become  a  sport  or  a  rounder,  but  would  con- 
tinue the  even  tenor  of  my  former  way  and 
stick  to  those  things  in  which  I  could  indulge 
without  moral  or  mental  reservations. 

Now,  whenever  I  see  a  bibulous  man,  it 
brings  to  my  mind  visions  of  that  one  experi- 
ence and  how  I  was  compelled  to  hold  on  for 
dear  life  to  keep  from  falling  into  space. 

93 


CHAPTER  XV. 

CONSIDERS  POLITICS  AND  RELIGION.      CONSULTS 

OSTEOPATHIC    AND    HOMEOPATHIC 

DOCTORS. 

13  Y  this  time  I  was  beginning  to  get  tolerably 
"■^  well  acquainted  with  myself.  The  reader 
may  perhaps  think — if  he  cares  enough  to 
think — that  I  did  not  enjoy  life;  but  I  did  in 
my  evanescent,  changeful  way.  I  was  always 
wavering  between  optimism  and  pessimism. 
Some  days  one  of  these  qualities  would  pre- 
dominate and  some  days  the  other  would  be 
in  evidence.  I  never  knew  one  day  what  the 
next  would  bring  forth.  I  came  to  understand 
myself  so  well  that  I  never  started  anything 
with  the  determination  to  carry  it  to  a  finish. 
I  thought  about  entering  politics,  but  did  not 
know  with  what  party  to  cast  my  affiliations. 
The  Democrats  and  the  Republicans  both 
claimed  to  favor  a  judicious  revision  of  the 
tarifif  as  well  as  a  3^earning  to  bridle  the  trusts 
and  money  power.  So  did  the  Populists.  Each 
of  them  had  plenty  of  plans  for  solving  the 
vexed  and  ever-present  problem  of  capital  and 

94 


Considers  Politics  and  Religion. 


labor.  Each  party  espoused  the  cause  of  the 
masses  who  toil,  and  each  likewise  favored 
law^s  which  would  enable  one  to  get  the  high- 
est price  if  he  had  labor  or  products  to  sell; 
or  if  one  happened  to  be  in  the  market  as  a 
buyer  he  would,  of  course,  get  these  things 
cheap.  Their  rules  seemed  to  effect  a  compro- 
mise by  w^orking  both  ways.  Out  of  all  these 
conflicting  and  chaotic  ideas  I  knew  that  I 
would  be  unable  to  decide  upon  any  set  of 
issues  and  stay  with  them  a  fortnight.  So,  as 
I  view^  the  matter  now,  I  think  I  displayed  un- 
usual strength  of  character  in  staying  out  of 
politics. 

The  same  puzzling  situation  confronted  me 
in  regard  to  matters  of  the  church.  There 
were  those  who  were  very  firm  in  the  convic- 
tion that  immersion  was  the  only  true  w^ay 
of  being  introduced  into  the  church;  others 
thought  pouring  was  good  enough ;  while  still 
others  considered  sprinkling  all  that  was  es- 
sential to  pass  the  portals.  Some  believed  in 
infantile  baptism,  while  a  few  good,  religious 
people  that  I  chanced  to  know  did  not  deem 
any  kind  of  water-rite  at  any  time  in  life  ab- 
solutely necessary.     A   certain  few  clung  to 

95 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


fore-ordination  which,  if  true,  would  preclude 
the  need  of  most  people  making  any  efforts 
along  that  line.  Some  of  the  churches  de- 
nounced dancing  and  card-playing  in  no  un- 
meaning terms,  while  others  gave  holy  sanc- 
tion to  card-parties  and  charity  balls.  Some 
churches  were  bound  down  by  certain  rigid 
rules  which  they  called  creeds;  others  were 
very  much  opposed  to  these.  For  every  belief 
there  was  an  "anti." 

Under  such  conditions  as  these  it  was  a  big 
undertaking  to  try  to  sift  the  wheat  from  a 
mountain  of  chaff  and  become  enthusiastic  in 
one's  devotion  to  State  and  Church.  Why 
should  there  be  such  a  state  of  chaos  on  mat- 
ters of  the  most  vital  importance.  Is  human 
nature  not  sincere?    Or  is  it  simply  erratic? 

For  the  present  I  tried  to  content  myself 
with  the  study  of  subjects  that  would  in  a 
small  way  muddle  the  world  in  return  for  the 
muddling  the  world  had  given  me.  I  pursued 
the  investigation  of  such  things  as  neoplaton- 
ism,  psychic  phenomena,  platonic  friendship, 
and  so  forth.  After  coaching  myself  up  a  lit- 
tle on  such  topics  as  these,  I  could  appear  in 
the  most  erudite  company  and  pose  as  an  au- 

96 


Considers  Politics  and  Religion. 


thority  on  the  same.  Ah !  authority,  how  many 
errors  are  committed  in  thy  name ! 

For  several  months  I  busied  myself  in  one 
way  and  another,  and  my  infirmities  seemed 
to  have  given  me  a  respite.  Every  symptom 
had  for  a  while  been  in  abeyance,  but  now  they 
besran  to  assert  themselves  with  renewed  ac- 
tivity.  The  reader  will  perhaps  wonder  what 
new  restorative  agencies  I  could  now  summon 
to  my  aid.  I  was  always  quite  resourceful  and 
could  usually  think  of  something  untried. 

I  remembered  that  I  had  never  consulted  a 
homeopathic  physician.  This  must  have  been 
on  my  part  an  oversight,  for  I  have  the  great- 
est esteem  for  this  class  of  medical  men,  mainly 
on  account  of  their  benign  remedies.  The  one 
I  consulted  told  me  that  homeopaths  did  not 
treat  a  disease  name,  but  directed  the  remedy 
toward  the  symptoms  at  hand.  This  impressed 
me  that  he  would  treat  my  case  on  its  merits 
and  without  any  guess-work.  My  relief  would 
depend  upon  correct  statements  in  answer  to 
all  the  doctor's  questions.  Pie  was  very  pains- 
taking in  this  matter,  and  the  questions  asked 
were  many  and  diversified.  One  was:  "Do 
you  ever  imagine  that  you  see  a  big  spider 
7  97 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


crawling  up  the  wall?"  Another  was:  "Do 
you  at  times  imagine  that  you  are  falling  from 
a  high  precipice?" 

At  the  time  I  had  a  slight  tonsillitis,  and 
the  doctor  was  careful  to  note  that  it  was  the 
right  tonsil  involved.  He  told  me  that  if  it 
had  been  the  left  one,  the  treatment  would  be 
entirely  different.  Up  to  this  time  I  had,  in 
my  ignorance  of  the  human  frame,  supposed 
that  the  two  halves  were  the  same  in  function 
and  symmetrical  in  anatomy. 

The  doctor  gave  me  a  vial  of  little  red  pills 
about  the  size  of  beet  seeds,  with  explicit  di- 
rections as  to  how  to  take  them.  If  I  exceeded 
the  dosage  prescribed  I  endangered  my  life, 
for  these  pellets  were  of  a  high  potency.  They 
were  little  two-edged  swords  which  might  cut 
both  ways. 

I  took  this  medicine  for  perhaps  a  week; 
that  was  longer  than  I  usually  confined  myself 
to  one  remedy.  One  day,  when  in  an  extremely 
despondent  mood,  I  was  seized  with  an  impulse 
to  kill  myself.  Neurasthenics,  like  hysterical 
women,  sometimes  talk  of  suicide,  but  these 
threats  are  usually  made  to  attract  attention 
and  gain  sympathy.     Neither  very  often  make 

98 


Considers  Politics  and  Religion. 


any  well-directed  efforts  to  get  their  threats 
into  execution.  But  for  me  to  plan  was  to 
act;  so  I  attempted  the  "rash  act,"  as  the 
newspapers  invariably  call  it,  by  swallowing 
the  contents  of  that  little  vial.  I  then  per- 
formed a  few  ante-mortem  details,  such  as 
writing  good-byes  to  friends.  About  the  time 
I  had  all  my  arrangements  made  and  was  won- 
dering if  it  was  not  time  for  the  medicine  to 
exert  its  deadly  effect,  I  changed  my  mind 
about  dying.  The  stuff  had  been  so  slow  in 
its  action  that  it  had  enabled  me  to  look  at  life 
from  a  different  viewpoint.  Life  now  seemed 
sweet  to  me  and  it  was  so  soon  to  pass  from 
me !  Oh !  why  had  I  not  used  some  delibera- 
tion before  thus  consummating  the  desperate 
deed? 

To  the  telephone  I  rushed.  I  soon  had  the 
doctor,  and  this  was  our  conversation: — 

Myself — "Doctor,  come  at  once ;  by  mistake 
I  swallowed  all  the  medicine  you  gave  me.  Do 
hurry,  doctor." 

Doctor — "Did  you  take  the  entire  contents 
of  the  bottle?" 

Myself — "Every  one — over  a  hundred — do 
hurry,  doctor." 

99 


Cojifcssions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


Doctor — "No  alarm,  then.  You  have  swal- 
lowed so  many  that  they  will  neutralize  one 
another  and  act  as  an  antidote.  Calm  yourself 
and  you  will  be  all  right !" 

I  thought  more  than  ever  that  this  was  surely 
a  mysterious  remedy. 

A  few  weeks  later  I  chanced  to  remember 
that  in  my  ceaseless  rounds  of  trying  to  regain 
my  health  and  retain  such  as  I  had,  no  osteo- 
pathic doctor  had  ever  been  favored  by  a  call 
from  me.  I  went  to  consult  with  one  post- 
haste. The  osteopath  wanted  to  pull  my  limbs 
both  literally  and  metaphorically.  He  discov- 
ered that  I  had  a  rib  depressed  and  digging 
into  my  lungs ;  also  a  dislocation  of  my  atlas, 
which  is  a  bone  at  the  top  of  my  spinal  column. 
He  was  not  sure  but  that  one  of  my  cranial 
bones  was  pressing  upon  one  of  the  large  nerve 
centers  in  my  brain.  My  symptoms  were  all 
reflex  from  these  troubles. 

I  did  not  decide  upon  an  immediate  course 
of  osteopathic  treatment,  as  I  had  been  struck 
by  something  new.  I  will  tell  about  it  another 
chapter ;  it  makes  me  so  tired  to  write  so  much 
at  one  time.  That  accounts  for  these  short 
chapters  all  along. 

100 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

TAKES   A   COURSE   IN    A    MEDICAL    COLLEGE, 

'Y'ES,  I  had  thought  of  something  entirely 
^  new.  I  would  take  a  medical  course  and 
would  then  know  for  myself  whether  I  suffered 
from  a  complication  of  diseases  or  whether  it 
was  true,  as  many  had  tried  to  convince  me, 
that  there  was  nothing  the  matter  with  me.  A 
medical  education,  too,  would  be  an  embellish- 
ment that  every  one  could  not  boast  of.  I  had 
the  necessary  time  and  means  to  take  a  course 
in  medicine,  having  no  one  dependent  upon 
me.  If  there  had  been  family  cares  on  my 
hands,  the  case  would  have  been  different.  So 
I  matriculated  in  a  St.  Louis  medical  college 
during  the  middle  of  a  term  and  began  the 
study  of  the  healing  art. 

Now,  reader,  please  do  not  be  shocked  too 
badly  if,  in  this  connection,  T  mention  a  few 
slightly  uncanny  things.  I  have  always  no- 
ticed, however,  that  most  people  do  not  raise 
much  of  a  fuss  over  a  diminutive  shocking 
semi-occasionally,  provided  the  act  comes 
about  as  a  natural  course  of  events.     There 

lOI 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


were  many  things  about  the  college  and  clinic 
rooms  that  were,  to  me,  gruesome  and  repul- 
sive. The  dissecting-room,  with  its  stench  and 
debris  from  dead  bodies,  was  the  crucial  test 
for  me.  I  wonder  now  that  I  stayed  with  it  as 
long  as  I  did. 

For  my  dissecting  partner  I  had  an  uncouth 
cow-puncher  from  southern  Texas.  There 
were  in  the  college  a  number  of  these  broad- 
hatted  and  rather  illiterate  fellows  from  the 
southwest  trying  to  get  themselves  metamor- 
phosed into  doctors.  (I  would  often  feel  for 
their  prospective  patients.)  This  man  who  as- 
sisted me  on  the  "stiff,"  as  they  call  the  dis- 
secting material,  did  the  cutting  and  I  looked 
up  the  points  of  anatomy.  I  preferred  to  do 
the  literary  rather  than  the  sanguinary  part 
of  the  work.  One  evening — we  did  this  work 
at  night — we  were  to  dissect  and  expose  all 
the  muscles  of  the  head,  so  as  to  make  them 
look  as  nearly  as  possible  like  the  colored  plates 
in  the  anatomy.  We  were  expected  to  learn 
the  names  of  all  these  structures.  The  memo- 
rizing of  these  terms  was  no  small  task,  for  I 
remember  that  one  little  muscle  even  bore  this 
outlandish  name:    levator  labii  sitperioris  ala- 

102 


Takes  a  Course  in  Medicine. 


quae  nasi.  Anglicized,  this  would  mean  that 
the  function  of  the  muscle  was  to  raise  the 
upper  lip  and  dilate  the  nostril.  My  companion 
said  that  he  "didn't  see  no  sense  in  being  so 
durned  scientific."  Accordingly  he  went  to 
work  and  cut  all  the  flesh  off  the  head  and 
stacked  it  up  on  the  slab.  When  the  demon- 
strator of  anatomy  came  by  to  test  our  knowl- 
edge and  to  see  our  work,  he  asked:  "What 
have  you  here?"  My  friend  very  promptly 
answered:  "A  pile  of  lean  meat."  This  stu- 
dent went  by  the  not  very  euphonious  name  of 
''Lean  Meat"  from  that  date. 

A  trick  of  the  students  was  to  place  fingers 
and  toes  in  pockets  of  unsuspecting  visitors  to 
the  dissecting-room.  There  was  no  end  to 
these  ghoulish  acts.  A  student  while  in  a 
hilarious  mood  one  night  did  a  decapitating 
operation  on  one  of  the  bodies.  His  loot  was 
the  head  of  an  old  man  with  patriarchal  beard 
and  he  carried  it  around  from  one  place  of 
debauchery  to  another,  exhibiting  it  to  gaping 
crowds  of  a  rather  tmenviable  class  of  citizen- 
ship. 

I  mention  these  things  merely  that  the  reader 
may  imagine  the  morbid  effect  they  might  have 

103 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


upon  one  of  my  temperament.  Being  a  fresh- 
man, I  was  to  get  in  the  way  of  lectures  only 
anatomy,  physiology,  microscopy  and  osteol- 
ogy. This  interpreted  meant  body,  bugs,  and 
bones.  But  I  wanted  to  acquire  medical  lore 
rapidly,  so  I  listened  to  every  lecture  that  I 
could,  w^hether  it  came  in  my  schedule  or  not. 
Soon  I  began  to  manifest  symptoms  of  every 
disease  I  heard  discussed.  I  would  one  day 
have  all  the  signs  of  pancreatic  disease;  per- 
haps the  next  I  would  display  unmistakable 
evidences  of  ascending  myelitis ;  next,  my  liver 
w^ould  be  the  storm  center,  and  so  on.  My 
shifting  of  symptoms  was  gauged  by  the  lec- 
turers to  whom  I  listened. 

At  my  room  one  evening  I  was  walking 
the  floor  wrapped  in  deepest  gloom.  No  deep- 
dyed  pessimist  ever  felt  as  I  did  at  that  mo- 
ment, for  I  had  just  discovered  that  I  had  an 
incurable  heart  disease.  I  had  often  feared 
as  much,  but  now  I  had  it  from  a  scientific 
source  that  my  heart  was  going  wrong.  I 
could  tell  by  the  way  I  felt.  My  room-mate 
noticed  me.  He  was  another  Western  bovine- 
chaser,  a  good  fellow  in  his  way,  but  according 

104 


Takes  a  Course  in  Medicine. 


to  my  standard,  devoid  of  all  the  finer  qualities 
that  go  to  make  a  gentleman. 

"What  in  thunder's  the  matter  with  you, 
feller?"  he  blurted  out.  I  told  him  of  the 
latest  affliction  that  had  beset  me.  What  this 
fellow  said  would  not  look  well  in  print.  My 
exasperation  at  his  conduct,  together  with 
thoughts  of  my  new  disease,  caused  me  to  lash 
the  pillow  sleeplessly  that  night.  I  decided  to 
go  early  in  the  morning  and  see  Dr.  Cardack, 
professor  of  chest  diseases,  and  at  least  have 
him  concur  in  my  self-diagnosis. 

The  doctor  had  not  yet  arrived  at  his  office. 
I  must  have  been  very  early,  for  it  seemed  to 
me  that  he  would  never  come.  When  he  did 
arrive  I  was  given  a  very  affable  greeting  but 
only  a  superficial  examination.  I  felt  a  little 
hurt  to  think  that  he  did  not  seem  to  regard  my 
case  with  the  significance  which  I  thought  it 
deserved.  The  afflicted  are  always  close  ob- 
servers in  whatever  concerns  themselves.  Pro- 
fessor Cardack  had  a  peculiar  smile  on  his  big, 
kind  face  when  he  asked: — 

''Have  you  been  listening  to  my  lectures  on 
diseases  of  the  heart?" 

"Yes,  sir;"   was  my  response. 
105 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


"Did  you  hear  my  lecture  on  mitral  mur- 
murs yesterday?"  he  asked. 

'1  did,"  I  had  to  admit. 

"And  did  you  read  up  on  the  subject?"  was 
further  interrogated. 

*'Y-yes,"  and  my  tones  implied  a  little  guilt, 
although  I  could  not  tell  why. 

"I  thought  so,"  continued  the  doctor;  *'some 
of  the  boys  from  our  college  were  in  last  night 
to  have  their  hearts  examined,  and  I  am  ex- 
pecting quite  a  number  in  again  this  evening. 
Every  year  when  I  begin  my  course  of  lec- 
tures on  the  heart  the  boys  call  singly  and  in 
droves  to  see  me  and  have  my  assurance  that 
they  have  no  cardiac  lesions.  I  have  never  yet 
found  one  of  them  to  have  a  crippled  heart. 
Like  you,  they  all  have  a  slight  neurosis,  coup- 
led with  a  self-consciousness,  that  makes  them 
think  the  world  revolves  around  them  and  their 
little  imaginary  ailments." 

I  felt  somewhat  ashamed,  but  with  it  came 
a  sense  of  relief.  ''Misery  loves  company,"  and 
I  was  glad  in  my  mortification  to  think  that  I 
had  not  been  the  only  one  to  make  a  fool  of 
myself. 

io6 


Takes  a  Course  in  Medicine. 


The  old  doctor  gave  me  the  usual  advice 
about  exercise.  He  said :  "Go  home  when  this 
term  has  closed  and  go  to  work  at  something 
during  your  vacation.  Work  hard  and  for  a 
purpose,  if  possible,  but  don't  forget  to  work. 
If  you  can't  do  any  better,  dig  ditches  and  fill 
them  up  again.  Forget  yourself !  Forget  that 
you  have  a  heart,  a  stomach,  a  liver,  or  a  sym- 
pathetic nervous  system.  Live  right,  and  those 
organs  will  take  care  of  themselves  all  right. 
That's  why  the  Creator  tried  to  bury  them 
away  beyond  our  control." 

This  little  talk,  coming  as  it  did  from  an  ac- 
knowledged authority,  made  a  strong  impres- 
sion upon  me.  I  resolved  to  act  upon  the  sug- 
gestions given  me.  By  the  way,  it  is  scarcely 
necessary  for  me  to  state  that  I  never  went 
back  to  the  medical  college  again. 


107 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

TURNS  COW-BOY.       HAS  RUN    GAMUT  OF  FADS. 


N 


EXT  I  decided  to  turn  co\v-boy,  so  I  at 
once  went  toward  the  setting  sun.  I 
would  go  out  West  and  go  galloping  over  the 
mesa  and  acquire  the  color  of  a  brick-house, 
with  the  appetite  and  vigor  that  are  its  con- 
comitants. I  had  frequently  read  of  Yale  and 
Harvard  graduates  going  out  and  getting  a 
touch  of  life  on  the  plains;  so,  as  such  a  life 
did  not  seem  to  be  beneath  the  dignity  of  cul- 
tured people,  I  would  give  it  a  trial. 

I  had  never  had  any  experience  in  "rough- 
ing it,"  but  from  what  I  had  read  I  knew  that 
it  was  just  the  thing  to  make  me  healthy  and 
vigorous  and  also  cause  me  to  look  at  life  from 
a  few  different  angles.  In  addition  to  my  un- 
ceasing concern  about  my  health,  I  also  had  a 
yearning  to  experience  every  phase  and  con- 
dition of  life  known  to  anybody  else. 

Broncho-busting  and  Western  life  in  general 
satisfied  me  about  as  quickly  as  any  of  my  nu- 
merous ventures.  In  a  very  few  days  I  was 
heartsick  and  homesick — a  strong  combination. 

T08 


Turns  Cozv-boy.    Has  Run  Gamut  of  Fads. 

I  will  draw  a  curtain  over  some  of  my  experi- 
ences, as  I  don't  care  to  talk  about  them;  one 
of  these  being  my  feelings  after  my  first  day 
in  the  saddle.  When  I  worked  for  that  mean 
old  farmer,  3'ears  before,  I  thought  I  was  phys- 
ically broken  up  if  not  entirely  bankrupt,  but 
that  experience  pales  into  significance  as  com- 
pared with  the  present  case.  Then  we  got  out 
on  an  alkali  desert,  forty  miles  from  water,  and 
I  nearly  choked  to  death.  However,  I  sur- 
vived it  all  and  in  due  time  got  back  to  civili- 
zation. 

On  my  arrival  home  my  den  looked  more 
cozy  and  inviting  than  it  ever  had  before.  My 
old  friends  gave  me  a  hearty  greeting  and  their 
smiles  and  handshakes  seemed  good  to  me  on 
dropping  back  to  earth  after  a  brief  sojourn  in 
the  Land  of  Nowhere.  I  was  truly  glad  for 
once  that  I  was  alive,  for  I  believe  there  is  no 
keener  pleasure  than,  after  an  absence,  to  have 
the  privilege  of  mingling  with  old,  time-tried 
friends  that  you  know  are  sincere  and  true. 
My  friends  seemed  just  as  glad  to  see  me  as  I 
did  them.  We  laughed  as  heartily  at  each 
other's  jokes  as  if  they  had  been  really  funny. 
Old  friends  are  the  best,  because  they  learn 

109 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


where  our  tenderest  corns  are  and  try  to  walk 
as  lightly  as  possible  over  them.  I  thought  the 
hardships  I  had  endured  for  a  while  were  fully 
compensated  for  by  once  more  being  sur- 
rounded by  familiar  faces  and  scenes. 

But  in  a  few  weeks  life  again  became  mon- 
otonous. Everybody  bored  me.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  both  men  and  women  talked,  as  they 
thought,  in  a  circle  of  very  small  circumfer- 
ence. I  found  only  an  occasional  person  who 
could  interest  me  for  even  a  short  time ;  I  felt 
that  I  must  have  some  mental  excitement  of 
a  legitimate  kind  or  I  would  go  crazy.  What 
should  it  be? 

Not  having  anything  better  at  hand,  I  turned 
my  attention  to  society  and  the  club.  I  had 
never  given  these  matters  quite  the  earnest 
consideration  even  for  the  accustomed  length 
of  time  which  I  devoted  to  so  many  other 
things.  I  conceived  the  idea  of  inaugurating 
a  campaign  of  education,  socially  speaking,  for 
the  purpose  of  getting  men  and  women  on  a 
higher  plane  of  thinking.  I  tried  to  get  every- 
body interested  in  Browning  and  Shakespeare, 
from  whom  they  could  get  mental  pabulum 
worth  while;    I  would  have  everybody  look 

no 


Turns  Cow-boy.    Has  Run  Gamut  of  Fads. 

after  his  diction  and  not  give  vent  to  such 
expressions  as:  "I  seen  him  when  he  done 
it."  I  would  get  as  many  people  as  I  could 
to  think  and  talk  of  something  above  common- 
places. But  in  a  little  while  I  saw  that  most 
people  did  not  want  to  be  bored  by  such  things 
as  mind  cultivation,  but  were  rather  bent  on 
what  they  chose  to  think  was  a  good  time.  So 
I  went  to  the  opposite  extreme  and  tried  to 
perfect  myself  in  the  small  talk  and  frivolities 
that  interest  the  majority  of  society  people.  I 
was  soon  able  to  ape  the  vapid  dictates  of  those 
who  called  themselves  the  Hife  and  the  ban  ton. 
If  the  reader  w'ill  pardon  me  for  using  these 
words,  I  promise  as  a  gentleman  not  to  inflict 
them  on  him  again. 

Of  course,  I  did  not  pursue  my  last  strain 
for  very  long.  I  worried  somewhat  about  my 
health,  but  not  so  much  as  of  old.  I  had  had 
about  all  the  disease  symptoms  worth  having 
and  now  could  complain  only  on  general  prin- 
ciples. My  character  was  as  vacillating  and 
unsettled  as  ever.  T  would  pick  up  one  thing 
today  only  to  discard  it  to-morrow.  I  had 
tried  so  many  different  callings,  fads,  and  di- 
versions that  now  only  something  in  the  way 

III 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


of  an  innovation  appealed  to  me  even  momen- 
tarily. Truth  to  tell,  I  had  about  got  to  the 
bottom  of  my  resources,  and  felt  somewhat  like 
old  Alexander  the  Great  when  he  conquered 
his  last  world  and  wept  because  he  was  out  of 
a  job. 

I  had  become  very  discriminating  in  regard 
to  trying  remedial  measures  and  agencies. 
Any  new  thing  in  order  to  gain  my  favor  had 
to  bear  the  brand:     ''Made  in  Germany." 


112 


CHAPTER  XVIIL 

GIVES  UP  THE  TASK  OF  WRITING  CONFESSIONS. 

13  EADER,  you  have  perhaps  wondered  all 
■''^  along  how  I  could  ever  hold  myself  down 
to  write  a  little  sketch  of  my  life.  I  wonder 
myself  that  I  have  thus  been  able  to  jot  down 
twenty  thousand  words  without  once  going  in 
for  repairs.  I  did  not  realize  until  this  very 
moment  what  a  lot  of  work  I  was  piling  up — 
an  effort  that  is  appalling  for  me  to  contem- 
plate. Indeed,  I  have  suddenly  grown  so  tired 
of  it  that  I  have  decided,  here  and  now,  to  give 
it  up,  as  I  have  all  my  other  undertakings. 
And  I  had  this  little  volume  only  about  half 
compiled!  Perhaps,  some  day,  in  a  spasm  of 
industry  I  may  be  able  to  write  the  other  half. 
At  any  rate,  I  have  written  enough  to  con- 
vince even  the  most  skeptical  that  the  neuras- 
thenic is  no  ordinary  individual.  We  want  the 
worM  to  know  that  our  little  brotherhood  is 
ever  entitled  to  respect — more  so  than  many 
other  cults  that  become  fashionable  for  a  day 
and  then  depart  from  the  "earth,  earthy."  It 
is  true,  we  think  much  about  our  health  and 
8  113 


Confessions  of  a  Neurasthenic. 


those  measures  calculated  to  retain  or  regain 
it,  as  well  as  misdirecting  energy  in  our  pur- 
suits and  pastimes;  but,  after  all,  that's  our 
business!  The  world  should  not  look  on  us  as 
being  cold  and  selfish;  if  it  does,  the  case  is 
another  one  wherein  "things  are  not  what  they 
seem."  We  have  big,  warm  hearts  that  beat 
for  others'  woes  and  are  ever  responsive  to 
the  "touch  of  nature  that  makes  the  whole 
world  kin." 

We  neurasthenics  have  slumbering  within 
our  bosoms  ambitions  and  possibilities  that,  if 
set  in  motion,  would  move  mountains  and  re- 
vert the  course  of  rivers.  But  we  can't  work 
up  enough  energy  to  consummate  our  aims  and 
carry  things  to  a  finish.  Perhaps  we  may  be 
able  to  do  so  some  day.  Oh,  Some  Day,  you 
are  a  mirage  on  the  desert  of  life  that  ever 
lures  us  on  to  things  that  can  only  be  attained 
in  the  land  where  dreams  come  true! 

I  am  now  wound  up  for  quite  a  bit  of  pretty 
wTiting  like  this,  but  as  I  have  promised  to 
say  good-night  and  good-bye,  I  will  put  my 
flights  of  fancy  back  in  the  box  and  go  to  bed. 


114 


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